The Corpse Behind The Hourglass
by GoldenSilence
Summary: Foreboding title, isn't it? Ch. 6 is up!! Harry. Hermione. Draco. One thing that happened years ago changed forever the life of one of them-and will change two of their lives all over again. Brimming with my oddball sense of humor:)
1. The Timeless Mistake

@The Corpse behind the Hourglass@  
(1/?)-The Timeless Mistake  
by:GoldenSilence  
email:flipgal14@yahoo.com  
category:Romance/Drama  
keywords:Draco, Hermione, Dumbledore, Harry/Hermione, Draco/Hermione  
spoilers:PS/SS,CoS  
rating:PG  
summary: Harry. Hermione. Draco. One thing that happened years ago changed forever the life of one of them-and will change two of their lives all over again.   
disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
A/N=I've been reading stuff at this site for awhile and I actually got the guts to upload one of my stories here..don't be too hard on it, please!  
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The year was 1700. It was well past midnight and a blustery storm was at its' peak out of doors... both facts which Nicolas Flamel took no note of. Deep in the midst of another one of his fascinating(his wife called them "useless") discoveries, he was oblivious to all else.   
  
Knocking repeatedly on the door to her husband's study until her knuckles were sore, Perenelle had given up on ever getting his attention and was about to slip Nicolas's dinner under the door when Nicolas came flying out of it as if propelled by the wind whistling around the frame of the house.  
  
His eyes had the look of one possessed by maniac energy as he rushed past her into the hall, holding a collection of ancient manuscripts with a grip of triumph.   
  
He went bounding down the hall and she could hear him shouting to no one in particular. "I've solved it!I solved it!"  
  
Perenelle waited for him to circle back to the study, her hands still on the tray of food. Sure enough, a few minutes later, after running through much of the house, Nicolas came back to the study and spotted his wife standing there.  
  
He picked his surprised wife up effortlessly by the waist and spun her around, sending to the floor with a clatter the tray of food she had been holding.  
  
"Nell,dear, I've come up with the spell to command time itself! So deceptively simple. Can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner-just cut the root number of pie in half and divide it by the number of years, substituting a letter of the alphabet for each one.."  
  
Perenelle gave her biggest smile, having automatically stopped listening after the word "simple".  
  
"That's wonderful, darling."   
  
Nicolas smiled back at her. "Oh, I just can't wait until I show this idea to Dumbledor!"  
  
********************  
  
A day later at Hogwarts, Dumbledore was reading the small book on Nicolas Flamel's findings on the warping of time with both doubt and curiosity. Nicolas watched the light shining off of Dumbledore's red hair as he read, practically biting his fingernails with anxiety.  
  
This was what he had spent nearly half of his thirty years developing! If Dumbledore thought it was good enough, he had the contacts to get it printed..something far beyond the not quite as influential Nicolas Flamel's grasp.  
  
Setting his spectacles down at last, Dumbledore spoke. "Interesting-not completely believable- but interesting."  
  
"Not completely believable on paper perhaps, but I assure you, this is the revolution that will take the magical world by storm."   
  
Nicolas Flamel was desperate to prove his worth to his older counterpart and exaggerated the worth of his experiments ever so slightly in order to do it. So what if a few kinks still had to be worked out of the spell?The important thing was it worked, right?  
  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled dangerously behind his glasses at Nicolas Flamel's reply.  
  
"Indeed? Then I beg you to demonstrate."  
  
Nicolas had no choice but to do so, chanting the spell in subdued tones as that indescribable thing known as magic began to take place.  
  
In the same room at Hogwarts, two hundred years later, a much more ancient Dumbledor glared at a much more ancient Nicolas Flamel.  
  
"What in the name of Merlin just happened?"  
  
**********  
  
Skipping over the milestones and other less important things that transgressed in the following one hundred and some years, the year was 2010.   
  
On 2223 Cumberland Ave., Hermione woke up to an acute pounding headache to accompany the pains in her stomach. She rolled over from where she had fallen asleep on her side, the springs creaking alarmingly as she did so.   
  
Hermione gave a worried glance towards the still form of Harry beside her, but he didn't move nary a muscle and continued sleeping peacefully.  
  
Reassured, Hermione pushed back the quilted covers and tried to sit up slowly. Flailing her arms to try and help her get momentum, she struggled into a sitting position and was nearly pushed back out of it as a spasm of pain greeted her stomach.   
  
She grimaced. Sure she wanted to have a child with Harry..but if she had realized just exactly how being pregnant felt...  
  
Following the pain in her stomach was another bout of pain in her head. Looking across the mounds and folds of blankets, Hermione found herself eye to eye with a regal owl, its' peak posed to peck her again if need be.  
  
Walking unevenly across the length of the bed, it dropped a letter in Hermione's lap. She rubbed her throbbing head as she ripped open the letter ill naturedly.  
  
Ugh. Why does the wizarding community have to use owls..why? It could have been pigeons or doves- nice non violent creatures. But owls?  
  
The owl gave Hermione another peck on the forehead in reply.  
  
"Yes, yes, you nosy owl, you've delivered your mail..now get!"  
  
Hermione swatted at the owl unevenly with one hand, but the owl wouldn't "get". It began flying around her in circles, hooting and molting feathers all over the place. "Oh."  
  
Groping in the dark over to the bed stand table with one hand, she felt for a small, rectangular object and brought it back to the bed.  
Unzipping it, she counted out ten sickles and dropped them in to the pouch around the owl's neck.  
  
Hooting again, this time with what Hermione supposed was its' thanks, the owl soared off through the one opened window in the house.  
  
Harry, undisturbed by the ruckus, continued to snore by Hermione's left side. With the bird gone, Hermione finally had a chance to read the contents of the letter in her lap. The letter read like an invitation to a formal tea party.  
  
{Dear Mr. And Mrs. Potter, we are delighted to invite you to a Hogwarts reunion of the graduating class of 2004. It will take place on October the thirty-first through December the first.  
  
This is a chance to mingle with your old classmates and talk to a few of our new students here at Hogwarts. . Please send an owl right away if you will be able to attend so that we can prepare rooms for your stay.   
  
Sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore,  
Headmaster at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry   
P.S=We know Mrs. Potter is a teacher at another wizarding school of importance, but in spite of the rivalry between the two schools, we could not wish anyone but our old head girl to be present.}  
  
Hermione couldn't help but give a little yelp of excitement. Of course they would go!No way was she going to pass up a chance to visit with her old classmates!  
  
Everyone who had graduated with her from Hogwarts had been spread apart by their various professions. Hermione hadn't gotten to see most of the other students(except for Harry, of course, and occasionally Ron) since the end of her eighth year.  
  
Shaking her husband roughly by both shoulders, Hermione woke up Harry to tell him the news. It took a good ten or so shakes before Harry stared at her bleary eyed, still half asleep.  
  
"What's d'matter?" he mumbled, covering a yawn behind one hand.  
  
"Oooh, Harry, We got a letter from Hogwarts asking us to a reunion! Just imagine..I wonder if Neville still sleeps with a blankey?"  
  
Hermione waved the piece of paper in front of his face. It, along with everything else in Harry's view, swam before his eyes.  
  
"That's nice dear" Harry said in monotone. Hermione looked at him like a little kid begging for sweets.  
  
"I know you're worried about the pregnancy and all, but can't we still go?..pleeeasseee?"  
  
Harry, in response half drooled something undecipherable. His body went limp in Hermione's hands. Harry was back to being fast asleep and snoring; as loudly as a train with the regularity of an ambulance siren.  
  
"I guess that' s a yes then" Hermione muttered to herself, dropping Harry back into the pillows and tucking the blankets under him.  
  
She scribbled out a hasty reply to Dumbledor' letter. Half rolling, half stepping awkwardly out of bed, she opened Hedwig's cage and tied the letter to the owl's leg.  
  
Hopping(or as best as anyone can hop when they're pregnant) back into bed, Hermione gazed at her husband fondly. The man slept like a rock. Two hours later, he would be up and about, having no idea he had just agreed for his seven months pregnant wife to go with him to a reunion at Hogwarts.   
  
Harry was overprotective sometimes. He never would have agreed for Hermione to come with him if he had heard a word she had been saying. IF. She might as well have been talking about the current affairs of Antarctica for all he understood.   
  
Smiling craftily, Hermione allowed herself to drift back to sleep with Harry.   
  
She was reawakened a few all too short hours later by the blasting of the Wizard's Wireless Weekly(the only alarm Harry could ever wake up to.)  
  
Harry awoke beside her and scooted closer to give her a butterfly kiss.  
  
"Good morning."  
  
"Mmm."  
  
Hermione tried, but as much as she exerted herself, she just simply couldn't get out of the high four poster bed unto the floor with the same ease she had earlier that morning.   
  
"Ugh. I swear, the baby has grown overnight" Hermione grunted. "Mind helping me out here, Harry?"  
  
"No problem."   
  
Quickly springing out of bed with an ease Hermione envied, Harry walked over to the other side of the bed and helped her stand upright, grunting a good deal himself with the effort.  
  
"You know, Herm..I think you may be right. You do seem heavier."  
  
Hermione snickered. "How flattering of you to say so, Harry."   
  
Her laughing attitude quickly turned towards tears. "Do you really think I'm.." she sniffed, "fat?"  
  
Harry laughed, pressing her close to him in a reassuring bear hug. "Of course not!You're pregnant, silly, not fat..." "But I would love you just the same if you were," he add libbed, seeing Hermione's eyes beginning to water again. She stayed in his arms for a little while, enjoying the feeling of comfort and trying to fight the other feeling that always accompanied it in a lesser degree..the feeling that everything was just a little too perfect. That maybe Harry was a little too perfect..didn't he ever get angry or upset or worried?  
  
Were all women so emotional when they became pregnant, Harry wondered, watching as Hermione's personality once again switched back to being sunny side up.  
  
Her voice came muffled through her clothing as she changed into a sundress.  
  
"Harry, do you remember me telling you anything from last night?"  
  
"Nope" was the just as muffled reply as Harry changed into his robes.  
  
Hermione finished fastening the buttons on her sundress. "To refresh your memory, take a look at the floor."  
  
She pointed a finger at the feathers that had belonged to the owl from Hogwarts still drifting lazily about in the early morning light.  
  
"Oh that". Harry shrugged. "Guess we'll have to buy a new bedspread then. This feather one must be falling apart."  
  
Hermione gave him her best impression of McGonagall's imposing glare. "Do you have any idea how many birds died to make that blanket?"  
  
Harry's voice came from around the set of stairs as he walked down them to the kitchen. "Probably the same ones Crookshanks ate."  
  
*********  
  
By the time Hermione had managed to maneuver herself downstairs(no easy feat considering the stairs were extremely narrow and she at the moment was about the width of a half a table) Harry was checking the mail from his owl, Hedwig. As soon as he saw her, he stood up.  
  
"Ready to go grab a bite to eat?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. A genius plan had formed itself there. What did wives always do when they wanted to weedle their husbands into something? Give them a compliment or do something for them, usually in that exact order. While making a fancy breakfast herself might not make Harry bounce off the walls happy, it might put him in a better mood. A better mood that would stay when she oh so casually slipped the news that he would not only have to quite work without a day's notice to go to an old school reunion, his wife would be coming along as well; pregnant and all.  
  
"No going out to eat for breakfast today. I'm cooking" Hermione said firmly in a voice that she hoped would remain when she told him of the reunion.  
  
She stretched on her tippytoes to peer into the cupboards. Now where was that frying pan?She was positive she put it somewhere..Oh well, she'd just have to use a small cooking pot as a substitute. You could cook bacon in pots as well..couldn't you?  
Hermione banged open a few more cupboards searching for more utensils to help along her cooking.  
  
Harry was watching from the kitchen doorway with apprehension. He didn't dare venture inside. The new magical stove and kitchware combined with his wife was a very hazarous combination.  
  
"Good god, Hermione. You're going to COOK?"  
  
"What on earth is wrong with my cooking?" Hermione demanded, accidentally waving her wand at him. Small blue flames sprouted from it. Harry backed up from the doorway a little bit more.  
  
"Oh absolutely nothing dear. Now while you're getting out that frying pan, would you mind handing me the mobile phone on the counter?"  
  
Hermione obliged, handing Harry the phone. Thanks to Hermione and Harry both having been brought up as muggles before they went to Hogwarts, the house was a clash of muggle and magical things.  
  
"Why do you need it?"  
  
Harry looked at her dead serious.  
  
"To call the fire department. Just to be on the safe side. Something I must remind you, your cooking does NOT have."  
  
Hermione sighed. Her cooking was the reason both she and Harry were on a first name basis with the local fast food joint and the coffee shop. In spite of being adept at everything magical, Hermione's grasp of cooking-with or without wand- was admittedly a wreck.  
  
"Of course it's not exactly easy to cook when I'm distracted" Hermione said prissily, looking right at him.  
  
"Okay Madame chef. Don't worry, if you bump into a sharp corner from trying to get around a kitchen that can barely fit a stove, I'll come running." He gave her a cheeky wink and walked off.  
  
Hermione began swishing her wand back and forth over a boiling pot of oatmeal as she zoned out dreamily to do something she didn't do all that often..think about her marriage to Harry.   
  
Mostly there wasn't much to think about. Being married to Harry wasn't exactly exciting or passionate. It was-there was no other word for it-comfortable. Harry, Hermione, and Ron's lives were now, without Voldemort popping up every year to try and kill them, quite ordinary. Yes, marriage to Harry was comfortable..basically spending twenty fours hours a day with your best friend. He knew pretty much everything about her and she knew everything about him. And maybe that was all love was anyway.  
  
A sudden sharp feeling of pain greeted Hermione's hand, reminding her of the task at hand. She turned on the sink quickly and ran it under cold water for a few seconds. Still sucking on it, she took the pot off the stove, seperated the substance into two bowls, and then took them both to the living room.  
  
Hermione beamed radiantly at Harry. "Tada..first course!"  
  
Harry took one look at the mushy, undistinguishable contents in the bowl and grimaced. Hermione's face turned slightly red.  
  
"Umm..well..at least it isn't pink this time."   
  
Harry snorted into his cup of coffee. "I dunno-what is it?. Maybe it's supposed to be pink."  
  
Hermione hit him on the head with her wand, causing a strange stripe of green to appear unentionally. "What does it look like?"  
  
Harry made a face at her while rubbing his head ruefully. "I have a feeling if I want to keep from getting a bump the size of an ostrich egg, I had better not say."  
  
"Harry, stop making such a big deal out of this, I cook perfectly-" Hermione took one spoonful of the oatmeal and made a face similiar to Harry's. Maybe cooking wasn't such a good idea. She should have just stuck with reasoning with him to let her come along. Of the two things, she was much better at the latter.   
  
"Well, the bacon will be good at least" she finished as Harry gave her a look that said "I told you so!". She came back with the tray of bacon to find Harry's oatmeal bowl empty. Hermione's eyes went straight to Crookshank's dish and sure enough, the cat was gulping down heaps of gray soggy stuff complacently.  
  
"HARRY!"  
  
Harry grinned. "Crookshanks seems to have a healthy appetite this morning, doesn't he?"  
  
"You have a good picture of your Aunt Marge when you blew her up? Good. 'Cause that's probably what Crookshanks is going to look like if he finishes that stuff."  
  
"I wouldn't worry about it. The cat's a trashcan on four legs, aren't you Crookshanks?" Harry reached down to scratch the cat between the ears. It purred at him.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I won't say anything about the trash can comment, but only because you're actually petting Crookshanks instead of trying to shoo him out the cat door for once."  
  
"For once. Only once. The minute the thing so much as tries to jump in my lap or miss the litter box on "accident", he's back to spending some quality time with the yard gnomes."   
  
Harry crunched down a few peices of bacon and gulped some coffee in a hurry. He stood up halfway.  
  
"Well, I'm off to work. See you la-"  
  
He never got a chance to finish. Hermione went around the table and pushed her husband back down into his chair. She decided to tell him of the reunion in her best no-nonsense-I'm coming if I have to ride your broomstick tone.  
  
"No you're not."  
  
Harry was puzzled. "I'm not. Umm..why?"  
  
"Because" Hermione took a deep breath and said her words slowly. "Because Hogwarts is having a reunion and it's today and I'm going with you."  
  
Harry, without realizing it, dunked his peice of bacon in his coffee. "WHAT?"  
  
"Dumbledore sent an owl last night and I sent him an owl back saying we should go,so-"  
  
Harry finished his last strip of soggy bacon and sighed in defeat. "So another words, you're coming if you have to filch my broomstick and ride it yourself."  
  
Sometimes he understood her a little too well. It was spooky. Like he could read her thoughts or something.   
  
"Yup. Ready to go?"  
  
  
---------------the chapter/fic has now ended------------------- 


	2. A Reunion And A Resurrecting Gone Wrong

@The Corpse behind the Hourglass@  
(2/?)-A Reunion and A Resurrecting Gone Wrong  
by:GoldenSilence  
email:flipgal14@yahoo.com  
category:Romance/Drama  
keywords:Draco, Hermione, Dumbledore, Harry/Hermione, Draco/Hermione  
spoilers:PS/SS,CoS  
rating:PG  
summary: Harry. Hermione. Draco. One thing that happened years ago changed forever the life of one of them-and will change two of their lives all over again.   
disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
  
------------  
A/N=This is really an all new chapter 3 and chapter 2 put together. I am so sorry for all of the lost reviews..*sigh*..I have been having tons of posting problems with this, the first chapter, and the following chapter..so bear with me.   
Just wanted to say thanks so much to everyone that reviewed the first chapter of this. I appreciate it! Reviews for this chapter would be much appreciated too!Oh yeah..btw=Dracoooo's hereeeee!!!:D  
------------  
  
  
One short car ride and one long train ride later, Hermione and Harry were standing out on the old quidditch field, milling around and talking to old friends.  
  
Dumbledore spotted them and came right over. He looked even older than Hermione had remembered him, but his eyes were twinkling as much as ever.  
  
"Well well. Hermione and Harry. Or should I say Mrs. and Mr. Potter now? With a baby already on the way.." He grinned at Hermione's stomach. "May I?"  
  
Hermione nodded and he put his hand on her belly. Dumbledor chuckled as he felt the baby kick. "It's going to be one strong little tyke, alright. I'll inform Proffessor McGonagall immediately that we've got a future Gryffindor beater in the making."  
  
Harry smiled. " With its mom's smarts and its dad's quidditch skills, it'll be quite the kid."  
  
Something about what he said just didn't sound right. As if all there was to Hermione was her smarts. Hmph.  
  
"It'll be quite a kid even if it comes out covered in blue polka dots and ends up in Hufflepuff." Hermione patted her belly fondly.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes fairly danced. "Aha, so Hufflepuff is the house your hoping for?I had best go tell Proffesor McGonagall so she can stop rubbing her hands together and dreaming of quidditch championships."  
  
As if she had heard the sound of her name, McGonagall appeared by Dumbledore's side. She looked rather strange without her usual glasses perched severly on the end of her nose.  
  
"That child will NOT be in Hufflepuff. I'll stomp on that old hat with my bare feet if I have to. Gryffindor hasn't won a single bloody match since when you left."  
  
Hermione laughed out loud at the teacher's venomence. "We'll see. It's still a bit early, don't you think?The child's not even in diapers yet, much less born."  
  
McGonagall sighed. "I at least hope the teams take turns flattening us. I don't think I could put up with eleven more years of Snape's boasting."  
  
Dumbledor looked around at all of the people simply wandering about, talking animatedly with each other and drinking glasses of pumpkin juice.  
  
"You two certainly didn't come to waste your time talking to an old man like me. Go catch up with your friends."  
  
"You aren't that old! Hmph. You make it sound like you are one step away from taking a nap in the grass." McGonagall gave Dumbledore her famous glare, somehow possible even with her lack of glasses.  
  
"Actually, that's just what I was planning on doing. On a lovely day like this one, why not?"  
  
  
McGonagall just shook her head. "I give up!"  
  
She turned to Harry and Hermione. "You two should go mingle some. I think I saw Ron over by the punch bowl-and I was just talking to Neville. He just arrived." She frowned. "Got held up on the train because he forgot his Wizard's license, silly boy."  
  
"Ron's here??" Harry asked and he gave a tug on Hermione's arm. "C'mon Herm, let's go find him."   
  
Both of their steps quickened as they neared a red haired young man who was handing the black haired woman at his side a glass of punch.  
  
"That must be him and Lavender" whispered Hermione to Harry. "I heard they just started dating.."  
  
Nothing much had changed, reflected Hermione as she and Harry talked with Ron and Lavender. Neville was venturing into the local pond with his trousers pulled up- looking for Trevor as usual. Fred was running into several people and causing countless cups of pumpkin juice and butter beer to overturn. Each time he ran into another peeved couple, his own little toddler, who was riding on Fred's back and covering Fred's eyes with his small hands, gave a peal of laughter. With mischief in his eyes and countless freckles, the little kid looked the spitting image of Fred.   
  
George was laughing enough to rival the toddler as Fred ran into the punch bowl , overturning it and causing orange pumpkin juice to spread all over his white shirt.  
  
Both twins came over when they spotted Lavender, Hermione, Harry, and Ron standing in a group.  
  
"Hey guys!"  
  
Fred's son rapped on his head hard with a stick.   
  
"Ouch.Ouch.Ouch.Tommy..geroff!Ugh. Alicia?Can you take this ball of energy for a second?"  
  
"I can get off on my own. I no needs help!" announced Tommy self- importantly. He leaped over his father's shoulders in a manner similiar to a frog and landed on his bottom in the grass.  
  
Alicia took one look at him and picked him up immediately. "Fred,I told you to watch him!Not let him go around jumping off tables. He could have hurt himself!"  
  
"That wasn't a table he jumped off," Fred groaned. "That was my back."  
  
"And that little munchkin right there, ladies and gentlemen, is why I intend to stay single for a very long time" said George.  
  
" Wish I could have done the same. Hmph. Kids today. We were never that rowdy when we were children," said Fred.  
  
Ron, Harry, Lavender, and Hermione all coughed loudly into their respective glasses.  
  
"They don't even come up with original ways to torture adults anymore" George added solemnly, shaking his head.  
  
"Too true. Ah, the fond memories I have of sticking Eerie Edwin's Best Explosives in the faculty toilets. Now that was original!"  
  
"Sure. The first thousand times you did it." Ron snickered. "After that, it began to get sort of old."  
  
"It did not!" Fred and George both defended themselves. Fred continued, "We didn't just stick bombs in toilets anyway."  
  
"Yeah. Sometimes we put Perunia's Laxitive Prunes in the fruit salad at dinner first," George said.  
  
"More victims that way." Fred smiled dreamily.  
  
"Harry, when you have your kid, you'll remember to bring him over to our joke shop sometime, won't you?" questioned George.  
  
"We have to have someone to pass our grand tradition of mischief making down to," Fred said.  
  
"Oh, if he doesn't remember, I will..to keep you and any tongue-toffees both far, far away from my child." Hermione grinned at George and Fred's crestfallen faces. "Oh for goodness sakes, you "mischief makers" of all people should know when I'm kidding!"  
  
************  
  
It was now ten thirty at night. Hermione was having the time of her life and half wished she could be back at Hogwarts as a student herself. She sat at the Gryffindor Great Hall table, feeling full and content from swallowing what seemed like gallons of butterbeer and from eating another one of Hogwart's fabulous dinners.  
  
"Ahem."  
  
" AHEM."  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat noisily several times, but the adults present for the reunion combined with the usual students that went to Hogwarts were all chatting far too loud for anything he said to be audible. Five sets of toddlers could be heard running rampant underneath the tablecloths lead by a chubby red haired bloke Hermione had no doubt was Tommy.  
  
"AHHHHEM."   
  
Still the audience continued talking, unaware of Dumbledore. It was at that exact moment Tommy ran out from under the table after another toddler..and tripped over an untied shoelace. Not bothering to tie it, he simply grabbed at the first thing he saw to keep him upright. The tablecloth. With a clatter, a silver plate and goblet crashed to the floor.  
  
The noise provided just the entrance Dumbledor needed. Everyone's attention caught at last, he began his speech.  
  
"Well, I certainly don't want to detract from all this jibber jabber, so I only have a few comments to make. First, it seems like most of you have made it here. Except for one, of course."  
  
There was a silence throughout the length of the Great Hall,if only for a short millisecond. Everyone knew exactly who the one person that was absent was.  
  
"Second, thanks to Proffessor Snape for the brave rescuing of a certain toad's near drowning in our punch bowl."  
  
There was the loud sound of applause, Particularly from Neville, who was beaming as Trevor croaked loudly from his shoulder. The sound of laughter also abounded from those that remembered just how Proffessor Snape had "rescued" Trevor.   
  
"Rescued?Nearly swallowed is more like it" whispered Ron in Hermione's ear.  
  
Snape muttered something in angry tones under his breath before going back to eating his peice of cake.   
  
"And Third, enjoy yourselves!!"  
  
Another round of applause, and the talking commenced once again.   
  
It was early in the morning by the time everyone had finally left the banquet at Hogwart's Great Hall in favor of getting a good sleep. Quite a few yawns could be heard as the throng of people streamed out, reminicing about when they had been students.   
  
When they reached their rooms, Harry just threw himself down on the bed, still in his clothes. He nearly fell asleep right then and there. Hermione, however, was not tired in the slightest.  
  
She had bigger plans. Sure, she had been allowed in parts of the restricted library..but never in the whole thing. Tonight was her chance.  
  
She told Harry as much. "You go ahead and sleep, I'm just going to go catch up on some reading in the library.."  
  
Harry put his arm around her. "Are you sure your going to be okay going down all those dark stairs so late at night?I don't want little Charles to get hurt..."  
  
"It's Aerin!"  
  
"It is now?" Harry gave a big yawn. "This must be the twentieth time you've changed the name."  
  
Hermione sighed. " I want the baby to have a name that means something-not a name that its parents picked on the spur of the moment."  
  
" Why don't I just cover your eyes, spin you around, and then make you point to a name in the baby book?It would be much simpler."  
  
"Not unless you want to end up with a baby named Alfalfa" retorted Hermione.  
"Now don't worry, I'll only stay downstairs for a little bit and then be back up."  
  
Harry was already halfway to sleep and didn't hear a word she said. "See you in the morning then" he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth as he sunk deeper into his feather pillow.  
  
Hermione giggled to herself like a schoolgirl as she scanned the covers of various books. "Spells For The Most Advanced Spellcaster" read the title of a small blue book jammed between "Diabolical Disfigurement Charms Of the Middle Ages" and "The Practical Guide to Vanquishing Vampires."   
  
It wasn't the title that caught Hermione's interest, though, it was the author's name, written on the binding in silver letters. Nicholas Flannel. No wonder it was in the restricted section. The book was priceless. She hadn't known they had anything of his.  
  
Settling herself into a comfy velvet armchair, Hermione balanced the book on her knees and turned to the title page.  
  
"To my darling wife- for putting up with all of my wild expirements and theories. And to my best friend, Dumbledore-for getting them published."  
  
Nicholas Flannel. 1860.  
  
Dumbledore? Hermione's brow furrowed. But he couldn't have been alive in 1860-not even if he was very, very ancient. It just wasn't possible-was it?  
  
She flipped to the first spell, her interest piqued. The words were hard to read, they were so spiderylike and all squashed together. To make them easier, Hermione began to sound them out loud. It wouldn't hurt to do so-everyone knew spells could only be activated if you had a wand, right?  
  
"Adveruis Antimus Catrom.." she finished under her breath. She read a tiny subscript on the page. "Oh, I have to add my name. Well, alright. Hermione"   
  
"What the-??"   
  
That was all Hermione managed to get out of her mouth before the words in the book and indeed, the world around her, began to swirl into a nausating mess of colors.  
  
All the times that had ever been,or would be, were available through that particular spell. And Hermione had chosen one of them. Which one remained to be seen.  
  
Not a thing remained to show she had been there- except for a lone blue book lying halfway open on a chair. A detail that Harry-along with Ron, Fred and George, and Dumbledore at his side- did not fail to notice as he sank into the same chair his wife had occupied a mere ten hours before.  
  
  
*********  
  
  
Wormtail, reading along out of a small book, faultered. As if Voldemort in dangerous temperment wasn't enough to inspire a sense of caution, being in front of an open grave trying to raise the dead certainly was.  
  
And that was precisely what Wormtail was in the middle of doing-or trying to do. It was rather hard when rain was falling at a steady rate down upon the book and his face, smudging the words and causing his glasses to be rendered sadly unusable at best.  
  
You would think one as mastered in the dark arts as Lord Voldemort would be able to easily bring back to life whatever follower he chose-but it wasn't so simple. Voldemort was once again, not at his highest source of power-thanks to that damn Harry Potter-why, he and his friends probably thought Voldemort was dead. Fools. They should know better. Much better.  
  
But then, so should Wormtail. Beyond pitiful excuse for a sniveling human being. Had he, Voldemort really lost so much power that his followers had been reduced to the quality of this wretch?  
  
The only two not in Askaban for their deeds were Lucius Malfoy and Wormtail-all the rest had ignored Voldemort, seeing he was weak. They had taken their own ventures into the dark arts, each hoping to reclaim the throne of power and fear they were sure he would vanquish all too soon.  
  
That was why he had to reserrect Draco Malfoy. It was not a matter of choice. Draco Malfoy had been subject to his Voldemort's lethal use of magic before-the reason he was now lying in his grave. Stupid mistake. It was meant for that Harry Potter, not what was the most promising to be of all his death eaters and what was once legions of followers.  
  
But what was done was done and raising Draco Malfoy was not to be done by Voldemort's hand. Could not be. For Voldemort had killed him. The one who murders can not bring that same murdered being back to life. No, it had to be someone else.   
  
Which was why Voldemort was waiting impatiently in the cold, dark cemetery while Wormtail stumbled, half of fright, half out of being unable to see, over the letters inscribed in the book.  
  
"Adveruis Antimus Ca-ca-tru-trom" mumbled Wormtail. "Draco" he added quickly upon seeing Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy's glares.  
  
Their glares was the least of their wrath he would face that night. For instead of simply reviving the boy, Wormtail had sent him back to the past.  
  
Lucius was furious, yelling at Wormtail over the gusts of wind and beating him over the head with the heavy book.  
  
Voldemort however, was the calm before the storm. Oh, Wormtail would be punished alright..but what he had done was not the worst of all things. In fact, if it had been made intentionally, it would have been quite genius. Send the boy back to his past and give him a chance to live. He might avert the second death awaiting him in the past altogether.  
  
Voldemort would simply have to hold on a little longer and wait patiently until the boy came back. Or did not come back at all.  
That wait would be much easier thanks to what he planned to do to Wormtail.  
  
After all, Voldemort was a strong man, but strength was not eternal...  
  
there was a price to pay for it.......  
  
always death...  
  
..but not from Voldemort. Only other's deaths would pay for his strength. Wormtail's would be a good start.  
  
----end of chapter------------------------- 


	3. The Death Eater

@The Corpse behind the Hourglass@  
(3/?)-The Death Eater  
by:GoldenSilence  
link:  
http://pub39.ezboard.com/ugoldenquill.showPublicProfile?language=EN  
email:flipgal14@yahoo.com  
category:Romance/Drama  
keywords:Draco, Draco/Hermione, Dumbledore, Harry/Hermione, Draco/Hermione  
spoilers:PS/SS,CoS  
rating:PG  
summary: Harry. Hermione. Draco. One thing that happened years ago changed forever the life of one of them-and will change two of their lives all over again.   
disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
---------  
  
A/N= Oooh. I saw the Harry Potter movie and it was awesome! Except for the few humorous moments from the book that they didn't put in(for example, the beginning of the movie, in which they just left out chunks from the book)- it was really a magical experience. I sat through all the credits and plan on going to see it AGAIN tomorrow.   
One last thing on this super long a/n:Sean Biggerstaff as Oliver Wood..*drool*. On the other hand, the guy who plays Draco Malfoy just, I don't know-doesn't look quite right in his part-though he has the personality down to a T.  
Thank you to each reviewer!!Also, I apologize for any seemingly offishness(is that a word?No. Probably not.) in the character of Draco. I am having a hard time getting his personality down, so any tips are welcome...  
  
-------------  
  
  
"Professor McGonagall, go alert the rest of the staff and the others from the reunion. Tell them to begin a search right away."  
  
"Of course, Dumbledore."   
  
Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and left the library without a backward glance. The shutting of the door resounded in the silence that followed. Silence that was a result of the absolute shock that went around from Ron to Harry. Only Dumbledore looked completely composed, as if this was the sort of thing that happened every day.  
  
It was none other than him that finally spoke up. "Perhaps Mrs. Potter is still here, looking for another book."  
  
Ron grasped the shred of hope Dumbledore had provided and clung to it tenaciously.  
  
"Or maybe you misunderstood Hermione when she told you where she was going, Harry. I mean, according to you, she came down here at what? Three in the morning? "  
  
"No," said Harry, a gloomy conviction to his words. "I understood her perfectly."  
  
He walked over to a large chair, moving the book that had been lying there so he could sit down. Once he had, Harry immediately sprang right back up. The chair was warm, as if it had been occupied not long before.  
  
"Hermione was here. Right here, I swear it," said Harry to both Ron and Dumbledore.   
  
Ron pointed to the book Harry had put on the table. "Harry? Do you think she tried to perform a spell from that or something?"  
  
Harry was about to answer, but Dumbledore did that for him. "I hardly think Mrs. Potter would be the type to do something so foolhardy."  
  
He agreed with Dumbledore..but still...  
  
Harry picked up the book and flipped through its pages before shaking his head and slamming the book shut in frusteration.  
  
"I can't figure it out. Its all jumbled up words. Might as well be in hieroglyphics. If Hermione did a spell, we'll never know which one, or how to get her back."  
  
"I wouldn't give up so easily if I were you. Mr. Weasley is head of the International Association of Foreign Languages. Perhaps that position can be put to some use? " asked Dumbledore, who still didn't look at all concerned about Hermione's sudden dissapearance.  
  
Ron snapped his fingers. "Of course! Harry, hand it over. Don't worry. I know every language there is. We'll figure out what happened to Hermione-or at the very least, what she was reading."  
  
But upon opening the book, Ron bore an expression of confusion and frusteration identical to Harry's. He spent several minutes muttering syllables under his breath, refusing to give up and acknowledge that he couldn't comprehend the symbols.  
  
Harry noticed, however. From the way Ron kept scanning the same page over and over, Harry was sure it wouldn't have mattered one iota if the whole book had been turned upside down..it was still all nonsense.  
  
At last, Ron shook his head in defeat. "I give up. It's just-well, sorry Harry-it's gibberish."  
  
Dumbledore looked sharply at both of them. "Perhaps I could have a look? "  
  
Ron shrugged and handed over the book. "Here you go. Maybe it's in an older language. In which case you, Professor, probably would understand it, no offense."  
  
Dumbledore grinned. "You might as well just call me an old geezer and get it over with."  
  
He took the book from Ron and held it up to his eye level, turning it on its side so that he could better scrutinize the binding and the cover of it. Dumbledore was either a quick reader, or as Harry suspected, he already knew what the book contained and therefor didn't so much as have to give it more than a glance.  
  
Give it more than a glance Dumbledore certainly did not. One cursory look at it, and he set the book back down on the table.   
  
"Nope. I'm afraid I don't understand it either..except for the cover."  
  
"But aren't the cover and the pages in the same writing?," asked Ron curiously.  
  
"Not at all," said Dumbledore. How could Dumbledore know when he hadn't so much as opened the book?, thought Harry again. "The language on the cover is Gamish-used to be fairly well known..back in my day. Naturally means it's all but forgotten now."  
  
"Go on," said Harry. "What's it say?"  
  
"Panacea For Animals: A History of Healing." Dumbledore was very glad that neither Ron nor Harry could decipher the cover-for if they had been able to, they would have found that he was lying outright.  
  
"That sounds pretty ordinary to me," said Ron, his face falling. "Not like the sort of thing that would have spells that would make a person just vanish."  
  
"I'm afraid you're right." Dumbledore's mouth turned slightly upwards. "But never fear. I'm sure there is a clue somewhere as to Mrs. Potter's whereabouts. People just don't vanish without a trace. May I suggest joining Professor McGonagall and the others in their search?"  
  
"Perhaps that's best Harry, " suggested Ron. "Can't do much good here besides stir up the dust."  
  
"Alright then," said Harry.  
  
Dumbledore nodded and began to walk out of the room, but then appeared to change his mind halfway to the door and instead walked back to the table to pick up the book, explaining his actions as he did so.  
  
"I strongly suspect this book isn't useful in your search for Mrs. Potter. However, my suspicions have been known to be wrong from time to time, much as I hate to admit it. It won't hurt to bring this to my office and observe it more closely-see if I can't possibly make sense of these scribbles."  
  
Harry waited until Dumbledore was gone to tell Ron the suspicions of his own.  
  
" Dumbledore knows what's in the book."  
  
"Blimey, you think so?"  
  
"I know so," said Harry. "Or at least, I'm ninety percent positive."  
  
"Last time you were ninety percent positive about anything, it was the shorcut to charm's class, which ended up leading to Snape's office and a month of detention. I'm not sure if that exactly helps to convince me," pointed out Ron. "Anyway, even if you're right and Dumbledore does know the book's contents, why wouldn't he tell us?"  
  
Harry put his head in his hands. "I'm not sure-I can't explain it-but Ron, I have a strong hunch he's keeping something from us."  
  
  
**************************************  
  
  
The sight of Mad-eyed Moody was enough to make a person jump ten feet into the air with surprise even in the best of situations. Dumbledore, to his credit, upon entering his office and seeing Mad-eyed Moody appear out of thin air next to his fireplace, didn't so much as blink.  
  
"You don't mind my dropping in?"  
  
"Not at all, Moody. You're just the person I was waiting to see."  
  
"No need to say a word, Albus. I know exactly why. The same reason I wanted to see you, I don't doubt."  
  
"Why don't we sit down and then talk? Your tales are always so long and I need to rest my feet. I fear if I stood, they would give way beneath me after awhile."  
  
Dumbledore sank into an armchair and beckoned for Moody to take a seat on a pouf. This Moody did, perched on the very edge of the poof, body tensed, looking as if he expected to have to spring back up again at any moment.  
  
"Ahh. Much better. Now Moody, tell me. What reason?"   
  
"Magic," stated Moody simply. "I could smell it."  
  
Dumbledore setlled himself back more comfortably in his chair. "Hogwarts is steeped in magic. You might want to be a bit more specific."  
  
"You know very well what magic. THE magic. Oh alright, THAT spell, if you will. It was used some two hours ago. Twice."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "I thought as much."  
  
He looked keenly at Moody. "So you pinpointed the location of both times the spell was used to here at Hogwarts? And came to ask me if I knew who would have performed it?"  
  
"Not exactly. One of the spells took place here. Only one. Do you understand what that means?"  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"The other was from Hogsmeade. Which- if there is only one written copy of the spell at Hogwarts as you have said, Albus-would be impossible."  
  
Moody's roaming eye settled on Dumbledore as he awaited an explanation. Dumbledore stroked his beard.   
  
"You come to me with a question-which, I promise, I will answer. But first, I have some things I must tell you about what has been going at Hogwarts. It explains a good deal..and makes things a good deal more confusing."  
  
"You're already confusing me, " said Moody shortly. "So?"  
  
"Do you remember a certain Hermione Granger from the time you taught here?"  
  
"Indeed. Exceptionally bright girl. Why?"  
  
"Because she apparently pulled quite the dissapearing act last night in the library," said Dumbledore.   
  
Moody frowned slightly, making him look even more sinister. "The library of places? You mean?"  
  
"Yes. She left behind only one object. I'll leave it up to you to guess what."  
  
" The book with the spell. You still haven't answered my question, Albus. How could anyone from outside of Hogwarts have used the spell if they only copy of that spell is printed in a book placed here?"   
  
"You know, Moody, I do have secrets, even from you."  
  
"Well, tell then. We're both in a business that doesn't allow for secrets. At least not from each other, anyway."  
  
"Really? Well then, I admit to it. I own socks with bumblebees on them and I wear longjohns to bed."  
  
Moody snorted. "I digress. Maybe a few secrets are best left that way. I meant tell me about the book, not your personal preference in nightwear."  
  
Moody, who had been impatient pretty much through the whole little chat, was now racing the room back and forth. Dumbledore put his feet up on the poof Moody had previously occupied.  
  
"If you want to learn more about the book, you had best go to Hogsmeade and see what there is to find out about the other spell performed."  
  
Moody finally stopped pacing. "You're right. I should apparate out of here. I'm smelling dark magic at Hogsmeade and that's never a good thing. Think I'll go investigate."  
  
"You do that, Moody. Oh, and if you happen to stop by Zonko's, buy me a pack of Fizzling Whizbees, will you?"  
  
Moody gave a sort of harsh grunt that for him amounted to a chuckle. "Albus, you really should just order a shipment of those sweets by owl."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "Oh, I already did that..had to stop. The store owl that was delivering them kept on flying sideways from the weight of the package. Don't want to be responsible for permanently maiming the poor animal."  
  
Moody's face twitched. "I'll get you some if I happen to stop there. You'll see what you can find out about Mrs. Potter? And see that she's adequately prepared? "  
  
"I will. Might even follow Mrs. Potter to wherever she went myself."  
  
"You're getting too old for this auror stuff," said Moody. He was known for being blunt, and he wasn't going to stop now. It was the kind of trait that made him enemies-but not in Dumbledore's case.  
  
Dumbledore just laughed, taking no offense whatsoever. "So are you, Moody. Goodday..and good luck."  
  
"Goodday, Albus."  
  
**************************  
  
  
Christmas was still twenty five days away, but at Hogsmeade one would have thought it was only a mere matter of hours. The town was covered in a deep blanket of snow, but that didn't stop Hogsmeade from putting on a showy display.  
  
Chimneys had been enlarged (so that Santa could fit through them, of course) . This wasn't the only blatant use of magic being used to send out holiday spirit, in a magical town like Hogsmeade, how could it be?  
  
The snowmen in every yard looked normal enough to the casual viewer-until they started moving across the yards to chat with each other. Bells jingled on sleds and sleighs as several people went rushing down the streets and past the stores, shouting exuberantly.   
  
Small multicolored glowing blurs in all shapes and sizes were visible in doorways, above windows, and- in the case of the Hogsmeade road- hung in the air of their own account, twisting and forming a sort of very twinkly map for travelers. It was only upon closer inspection, that you realized the blurs were actually pixies. Thousands of them.  
  
The only problem with the pixies was one similiar to the snowmen. They kept on getting restless and moving every two or so minutes, which meant the formations they were supposed to be forming kept on changing ( a reindeer for no apparent reason, would in one flutter of pixies, change to a sign proclaiming "merry christmas!" )  
  
A bag of Fizzling Whizbees in hand, Mad-eyed Moody stood in the midst of all this, blinking rapidly at the incessant bright pixies that kept on fluttering about, leaving a small trail of pixie dust behind them.  
  
Moody turned away from the houses and shops all snuggled together and looked instead at the pixies in the middle of the road-now forming "Welcome to Hogsmeade: the place for all your holiday shopping."  
  
Moody knew exactly what to do. "Excuse me, the way to the graveyard? "  
  
At his words, the pixies began flying this way and that, arranging themselves until they formed an arrow. Mad-eyed Moody followed that arrow closely as it moved over worn down gate and down a snow covered path until it reached another gate; this one of the imposing iron sort.There, the pixies dispersed and flew back to Hogsmeade's main road to await more travelers.   
  
Moody muttered a few words under his breath and the gate opened wide. Stepping through, he grimaced as a horrible pungent smell greeted his nostrils. As he searched through the graveyard to find the exact source of the smell, Moody noted that whatever cheer and spirit of christmastide were already taking place at Hogsmeade remained completely absent at the graveyard. The place was as bleak and dreary as ever-even the newly fallen snow seemed to have turned a sickly shade of gray.   
  
"Dismal, isn't it?" said a voice from behind Moody. Wheeling around, Moody found himself staring at Cornelius Fudge and an open grave around which a set of ministry of magic workers were toiling to try and fill.  
  
"I've seen worse." Moody's voice didn't make you doubt he had.  
  
Moody then realized where the odor he had een trying to track was coming from-the open grave. Pinching his nostrils with his fingers, he gave another grimace. "Ugh. What is that smell?"  
  
Fudge looked at him, intrigued. "What? I don't smell a thing." Moody gestured to the grave. "Not even the corpse in there?"  
  
Fudge frowned. "There isn't one," he said wearily in the tones of someone who had been repeating that same statement stubbornly for most of the day.  
  
"Really? Explain."  
  
"There was one once, there isn't one now. Nothing to explain."  
  
Moody ceased pinching his nose and inhaled deeply. "Oh yes there is. This place stinks..someone used dark magic here-powerful dark magic."  
  
Fudge whistled. "I'll never get used to the way you aurors can smell magic. Uncanny, even if it is useful. What sort of spell was it? A resurrecting? Perhaps Voldemort trying to get one of his followers of old back?"  
  
Moody shook his head. "No, not that. A time alteration spell."  
  
He knew about the book containing the spell just as Dumbledore and Moody did..Fudge needed no further explanation.   
  
"You mean? "   
  
"Yes. A death eater has been sent back..with Mrs. Potter." Moody peered at the gravestone on the opened grave. "One by the name of Draco Malfoy, I believe."  
  
Fudge pulled Moody to one side away from the workers who kept giving them strange glances. "A death eater? One of his own destroy Voldemort? But how? And who read the spell? The corpse couldn't very well recite it."  
  
"One of Voldemort's followers did at his orders, naturally."  
  
Fudge rubbed his tired eyes. "I thought the book was spelled so only aurors could read it."  
  
"Oh, it was. On the second copy."  
  
Fudge was horrified. "Second copy??"  
  
"Best get the other aurors and the unspeakables. We have got to find that other copy and destroy it."  
  
Fudge sighed. "Too late. The spell's already done its damage. There's not much we can do to get it out of Voldemort's hands." He saw the furious look on Mad-eyed Moody's face. "But we'll try. Of course we'll try."  
  
  
******************************************  
  
  
One minute she was sitting comfortably in the library. Then the scenery swirled around her until it was nothing but an array of different colors and the next thing she knew, she was in a loo, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked younger..a good deal younger..  
  
Hermione grabbed a bunch of paper towels, stuck them under the sink until they were soaking, then held them to her forehead. Feeling slightly less dizzy after that, with a tenative hand, Hermione reached out and turned the door knob.  
  
Don't panic, she told herself as she stepped out of the doorway still shaking. Don't panic. Cool, calm, and collected. Hearing a rumble and the gears grinding beneath her, Hermione realized she was on a train.  
  
  
  
Hermione slid the glass door open to enter the first compartment.   
  
"Ahhhhhh!"  
  
"Ahhhhh??"  
  
Hermione blinked and found herself staring at Fred, George, and Ron...only they didn't look quite as she had remembered seeing them last night at the reunion.  
  
"You guys too? What the heck happened to us? What are we doing here?"  
  
The three boys merely blinked back in response. Hermione studied Ron for a minute. "And what happened to your beard?"  
  
Fred and George snickered heartily. "Beard? Him?" asked Fred. "Ron here could get rid of all his chin hairs with an eyebrow plucker, trust me," said George. Both twins doubled over with laughter.  
  
Ron's face went a bright shade of red. "You're one to talk. The two of you look like you shave with shards of broken glass."  
  
Both Fred and George put their hands up to their chins, which, Ron was right, had a few cuts and scrapes on them. However, in true Fred and George fashion, they didn't look at all emberassed about it, just simply grinned.  
  
Hermione was getting worried. They all acted the same..but something was missing..she couldn't place her finger on it..  
  
"Fred? Where's your son? And what about both of your wives? And-" Hermione turned back to Ron-"What about Parvarti?"  
  
Fred, George, and Ron looked at her as if she had grown three heads. "This is turning into a really bad version of one of those soap operas Ginny's always watching," observed Ron.  
  
"You know, Parvarti, your girlfriend. Where is she?" Hermione asked again patiently.  
  
Ron gaped at her. "Whoa. Back up. I know the letters I sent you this summer had handwriting that was a bit sloppy, but.."  
  
"A bit sloppy? Your handwriting greatly resembles what a chicken's would look like if you took his feet and placed them in ink," mumbled George.  
  
"-And then set his tail on fire," muttered Fred.  
  
"Seeing as you've gone temporarily mental on the love/hate situation between Ron and Parvarti," said George. "They HATE each other..in case you haven't noticed."  
  
"And you'd have to be blind as a bat not to," added Fred.  
  
Hermione was shocked. "What on earth? Maybe all three of the had amnesia. How could they have forgotten everything that had happeend in the past three or so years?   
  
"So you and Parvarti aren't?" Hermione asked Ron.   
  
"No. I set fire to her hair last year," said Ron in a matter of a fact tone. " In Care of Magical Creatures, remember?"  
  
Hermione caught on quickly. Somehow she had warped back to Hogwarts in the past-that would explain why Fred wasn't worried about his own toddler, or Ron about his girlfriend, and why she looked like she had just used a quart of anti wrinkle cream and lightened her hair about two shades.  
  
"Right. Our fourth year..yeah, sure. I remember," she fibbed.  
  
Fred rolled his eyes. "Fifth year, 'Mione. Fifth."  
  
Ron looked at her worriedly. "Right. That's it. You two keep an eye on her while I go get Madame Pomfrey."  
  
"I'm fine," protested Hermione.  
  
Ron didn't look convinced. "Uhuh..how many fingers?"  
  
"Two. Honestly, I'm FINE."  
  
"Sure you are. I mean, no big deal you didn't remember what happened last year," said Ron.   
  
"Oh, I can see how she would forget. Ron setting Parvarti's hair on fire is such a common occurence," said George with another snicker.  
  
The sound of footsteps behind her was-for Hermione-a welcome diversion from all three of the Weasleys focusing on her.   
  
Or it was a welcome diversion until she turned around and saw just who had snuck up. Draco Malfoy, looking just as she had remembered him. If Hermione had had any doubt she had somehow gone to the past, it was vanquished when she saw him. If he was alive-well then, it had to be the past, didn't it?  
  
Fred and George both rolled their eyes. "Welcome to 'A Day in the Life of a Crazed Witch', scene two," said Fred.   
  
"You must be.." George glanced at Draco. "Hmm..let me guess..the set handyman?"  
  
"Nah. Too ugly. Maybe he's supposed to play a log?"  
  
" The resemblance is stunning. "  
  
Draco glared at Ron. "If I'm a log, I hate to imagine what you would be, Weasley. I'm thinking along the lines of dirt."  
  
The glass door slid open again and a small, delicately featured face peered around it. "Malfoy? What are you doing with THEM? Hurry back. There's something you might want to see." The door shut and the face dissapeared.  
  
Ron's face, which had been turning redder and redder, now resembled a ghost's.  
  
Draco smirked. "You'll have to excuse me. My devoted girlfriend awaits for some snogging."  
  
Fred and George held Ron back as he tried to lunge at Draco. "Easy there. Don't explode Malfoy into little bits yet."  
  
"Wait until after the sorting ceremony so everyone can see it."  
  
When Ron spoke, it was in a strangled sort of voice. "Devoted, hah! About as devoted as I am to moaning myrtle."  
  
"Live with it. You kissed Hermione, your girlfriend kisses me. Your girlfriend becomes mine. Fair exchange-though, I must say, I do believe I'm getting the better end of the deal."  
  
Draco Malfoy turned around and slammed out of the compartment before either Hermione or Ron could do anything (both of them and Fred and George as well had their wands out before Draco had even finished talking.)  
  
Hermione paused for only a fraction of a second before following Draco.  
  
"What are you doing?" shouted Ron at her back, but she ignored him.   
  
Hermione waited until she was within Draco's earshot to yell at him. "Wait, I need to talk to you!"  
  
"Six words I never thought you'd say." Draco corrected himself. "No. Six words I never wanted you to say. Look, if you came here to stick up for Ron, shove it."  
  
"That's not why I'm here and you know it. I saw you-you appeared out of thin air, you didn't walk in from some other compartment. How?"  
  
Draco was flustered, but he didn't show it. So she suspected. Best to try and make that Granger think everything was perfectly normal. Especially seeing as everything wasn't normal. He was supposed to be dead and now he had been sent back to this?? No doubt there was a purpose for it..a purpose most likely tied in with Voldemort.  
  
"The world really is coming to an end. Hermione Granger, did you accidentally leave your textbooks behind or drop them in the bath while you were reading over the summer? It's called apparating."  
  
"Oh, of course. I believe you. Even though you've never told the truth in your life."  
  
Hermione made an exsasperated noise and started walking off. Draco thought he was rid of her until she suddenly turned back around and glared at him.  
  
"Just answer me this, Malfoy..what year are we in?"  
  
"What? You lost your pocket calender? Your brain? Or both?"  
  
"Just answer me."  
  
There was a long silence, then.."Fourth?"  
  
"Wrong. Guess again." The look in Hermione's eyes was reason for worry. She had the look of a cat when a mouse is caught in its trap. "Oh, don't worry. Just use the process of elemination. There's only six other years to choose from."  
  
Malfoy took Hermione in from head to toe in a way that made her very uncomfortable. "I'm gathering we aren't in first."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Shut up? I thought you wanted me to talk."  
  
"Then talk."  
  
Malfoy simply gave her the arrogant stare he was infamous for, not saying so much as a phrase.  
  
"Oh fine. That's it. I'm just going to say it and if you think I'm nuts or attempt to put me a straight jacket, I don't care."  
  
"Let me guess-you love me madly."  
  
Hermione snorted. "Definitely not. Sorry, the Gryffindor Draco Malfoy Fan Club will just have to be minus one girl."  
  
Draco shrugged. "Then whatever it is really isn't worth my time to hear. Enemies make horrible shrinks."  
  
Hermione clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides. " I don't care if it wastes your precious time. I'm going to tell you and you're going to listen. I'm twenty five bloody years old, I somehow got warped back to being sixteen and the same thing happened to you."  
  
Draco grinned. "I was wondering why you where bothering to talk to me. Now I know why. You're INSANE."  
  
"Am I? Then tell me how on earth you just appeared out of nowhere. Because unless the ministry of magic suddenly decided to take a vaction to The Bahamas, you wouldn't be using apparition. Apparating without a license before the age of eighteen would mean you would get kicked out of Hogwarts."  
  
"What makes you think I don't want to get kicked out?"  
  
"Much as I wish you would, you won't. Doing so would have five generations of Malfoys rolling over in their graves. Speaking of which, you have quite a nice looking gravestone in the future, biggest one in the whole graveyard."  
  
Malfoy clapped his hands in mock approval. " Best imitation of Proffesor Trelawney I've seen in years. Next time though, I would suggest fainting afterward and maybe muttering something about a scar-more convincing."  
  
Hermione began walking off. "Forget it..I thought.."  
  
Draco, for once, risked speaking the truth. Just because she knew he was from the future as well didn't mean she had to know he was here for Voldemort, he reasoned.  
  
"You think this is wierd for you? Try coming here from the grave. Quite a change of scenery, I can tell you."  
  
Hermione look at him from over her shoulder. "So you are too?"  
  
Berating himself for what he had just done, Draco opened the door to the next compartment and slid it shut behind him in reply. He didn't see Hermione come in quietly behind him.  
  
That was strange. The compartment was empty. Since when did they have extra seats??  
  
Draco felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around, expecting to see Crabbe or Goyle. Instead, he found himself face to face with none other than Wormtail. Wormtail brandishing a wand in a way that suggested it was not being woven in the air merely as an empty threat.  
  
link: ezboard link:http://pub39.ezboard.com/ffictionalleyfrm420  
**************the chapter ends here 


	4. Wormtail

@The Corpse behind the Hourglass@  
(4/?)-Wormtail  
by:GoldenSilence  
link:  
http://pub39.ezboard.com/BBSUser.fromWeb?boardName=fictionalley&back=fictionalley&language=EN  
email:flipgal14@yahoo.com  
category:Romance/Drama  
keywords:Draco, Hermione, Harry/Hermione, Draco/Hermione  
spoilers:PS/SS,  
rating:PG  
summary: Harry. Hermione. Draco. One thing that happened years ago changed forever the life of one of them-and will change two of their lives all over again.   
disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
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A/N=Once again, another big thanks to people that have been reviewing this and giving me encouragement (or as the case may be, constructive critism), Luccia-I have a good feeling I know who you are;)), Malon Lon-Lon, Someone-The Hero and The Crown is the best!One of my favorite books by one of my favorite authors!, bumblebee-me?a knack for writing?*blushes* geez, thanks. Graymist-Don't worry, several not so nice things will happen to Draco..along with a few not so bad things. An-I'm working on finishing it. Only about ten more chapters to go. Voltora-Funky title, I know!:P I like it, though. Much better than the title I had before..there were about fifty fanfics with the same name. Thanks for reviewing my other story as well! Innus325, Miya Black, Harry's Sweetie220, Jessica-wow, you've reviewed alot of my stories. I appreciate it.:) Lil'cyberfairy, and Sundame. Oh yes, and I strongly abuse the power of question marks in this story..consider yourselves warned.  
  
  
Enjoy!!  
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Voldemort drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. It was the kind of idle action that was not a good omen. If Voldemort was restless, then it never boded well for any of his accomplices. Usually it meant one was eliminated permanently or at the very least, tortured severely for not fulfilling their job as a death eater properly or bringing the wrong sort of information to light.  
  
Lucius, knowing exactly who would have to face Voldemort's wrath-or who was at the moment, rather-simply wore the sardonic grin that witnessing other's pain always brought to his face. Wormtail writhed in agony as the spell he was encased in increased its hideous effects.  
  
Voldemort spoke in measured tones. "You knew that your mistake would have to be punished. Sending the boy back was a smart move, but a mistake none the less." He raised his wand to point it at the glowing orb surrounding Wormtail and Wormtail pleaded in his whiny voice. "Please..master..please..I won't fail you again..I promise..just let me live..please.."  
  
Voldemort shrugged. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you."  
  
"Useful..I can be useful."  
  
"Why should you? You never have been." Voldemort made to raise his wand again and then suddenly paused." Yet..I think..I think I will spare your life. But fail, and I assure you, I will not be nearly so lenient again. I have one last job for you." He looked at Lucius. "And you as well."  
  
The orb around Wormtail vanished and Wormtail fell to the cold cobblestones, his face still cringed in pain. He and Lucius spoke as one. "Anything you wish, master."  
  
"Draco Malfoy has been sent back to the past because of your foolish blunder, but he is not the only one. A girl, Hermione Granger, has as well. You will follow them to whatever year you have sent them to and stay as long as is necessary to make sure of two things. One, that the girl doesn't allow Draco to be killed again as he once was. Two, that they never meet Salazer, for that would be the end of everything."  
  
Both Lucius and Wormtail nodded feverently. Suddenly, Voldemort smiled, but not from joy, it was the kind of smile that one wore when one knew that he was only a short while away from victory. A bloody victory. "When you are done with both of those things, you will then summon me." Voldemort pressed idly turned the ring of obsidian around and around his finger. Once, he had been forced to share the same body as that idiot Quirrel. But since far before then, he had already been sharing his soul with another. Salazer Slytherin. " With Salazer on my side, Godric Gryffindor will find me a most worthy adversary indeed."  
  
He went back to looking at his two death eaters that remained. "Go now." He gave one last scornful glance at Wormtail. "You would be well advised to watch your step. We cannot afford such mistakes again. I'm afraid if another one was to occur, you would find yourself in a most unpleasant situation."  
  
Voldemort needed to explain no further. Cowering, Wormtail bowed out of the chamber, his face facing Voldemort's all the way. It did not pay to turn your back on the dark lord.  
  
"Don't worry, I will not allow him to fall short of what he is required," Lucius said before insolently turning around and walking out. For once in his life, he was not lying either. Wormtail and his every move would be closely watched.   
  
  
*****************  
  
  
Draco stopped dead in his tracks, staring. Wormtail? What was he doing here? According to Voldemort's plans for the sixth year as Draco remembered them, Wormtail was supposed to show up at the end of the semester, not the beginning.   
  
A split second was all Draco had to stare before Wormtail's incantation was complete and a wave of black shot forth from the wand in both Draco's and Hermione's direction. Before the spell fully eclipsed both his mind and his body, Draco had one last thought as he saw the person standing behind Wormtail. The person with blond hair, eyes the color of an icy morn, and an expression to match. In short, the illustrious figure that was himself.  
  
  
  
Draco's last unfinished thought was drowned out as he fell backwards from the force of the spell, hitting his head hard upon the wooden back of one of the train's seats.   
  
Draco was standing in front of Hermione..or had been, rather. She watched him topple from the spell. He was the only thing that had saved her from a similiar fate. So far. Hermione didn't doubt Wormtail would try to use the spell on her again. Just exactly what he was doing at Hogwarts she didn't have time to wonder, neither did she have time to focus on Ron, and Harry, who had just run into the compartment, followed by Professor McGonagall and a figure that was a mirror image of Hermione herself.  
  
Ron, Harry looked back and forth in shock-from the Hermione at their side to the Hermione standing in front of Wormtail. Even McGonagall was temporarily floored. Two of her? But how?  
  
Hermione had only time enough to pull out her wand and begin hastily chanting a counterspell under her breath. But it was too late. Wormtail had retaliated faster than Hermione had counted on and before she knew it, she too was hit by the spell and thrown backwards from the force of it.  
  
The world remained dizzingly out of focus, but at least Draco didn't black out altogether. He had just managed to pull himself back into a sitting position when Hermione went flying into him, knocking both of them into the wall. Draco tasted blood on his lips before everything ceased to be blurry altogether and simply obliviated into darkness.  
  
  
*****************  
  
Trapped. He was trapped in a small space with no way out. Caught like a fly in a giant web. Unable to move. A coffin? He was being buried alive?  
  
Draco lashed out with his arms and feet in panic, but something stilled his efforts. A damp piece of cloth, cool to the touch, was being pressed against his forehead, sending calm radiating throughout his body.   
  
Opening his eyes, Draco found himself facing the sight he least wanted to see first thing when he woke up. Granger, asleep in the bed next to him. Thank goodness she wasn't awake. He didn't think he could deal with her right then. His head hurt something awful and a nasty aftertaste still clung inside his mouth.   
  
Turning from on his side to lie on his back, Draco realized the only thing trapping him was a bundle of feather comforters and sheets tucked tightly around him. A form wearing a nurse's old fashioned head attire and a set of white robes was just then bustling out of the room, muttering something as she left.   
  
Of course. The infirmary. He should have known. Draco strained to remember what had happened awhile before and it was all he could do to picture Wormtail's face as he had brandished his wand aboard the train..any more than that and memories came rushing back, many memories. Memories that had nothing to do with the incident on the train. Memories overcrowding his brain until he was forced to sink back into the pillows in confusion and defeat.  
  
Hermione awoke to a dull throbbing sensation in her head. She took a minute to take in her surroundings; the beds lined up all along the wall, the high ceiling covered with odd paintings that appeared to be moving, and last of all, the blonde haired boy tossing and turning in the bed next to hers. Upon seeing him, something within her memory seemed to awaken.   
  
She almost knew who he was..but yet she couldn't quite grasp it. A stranger. Everything seemed strange. Why was she here? Hermione struggled to remember yet came up with nothing. The only thing that came to mind was a name. Hermione. Her name? She thought it was, from the familiarity she associated with it.   
  
She worriedly turned her attention towards the boy, whose thrashing had abruptly stopped as he lay still. "Are you quite alright?"  
  
The boy put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, the panic he seemed to have been in earlier had vanished without a trace, hidden behind a well placed smirk.  
"Other than seeing your face and thinking I was in a living nightmare, fine."  
  
Hermione frowned. He had just insulted her. He had to know her then somehow. Unless he was simply one of the sort that liked to lash out insults at whoever was nearest to target for such abuse.   
  
"Do I..know you?"  
  
"You could say as much. We weren't exactly what you would call real chummy."  
  
"I didn't think we were." Hermione rolled over to look at him. "I figured more along the lines of arch rivals."  
  
"You figured right". So Hermione still didn't remember. He hadn't either until a few minutes ago. Draco hoped the full effect of Wormtail's spell weren't any more major than what he thought it was. Temporary memory loss didn't exactly seem to be the light sort of torture that one of Voldemort's followers would go out of his way to do, however.  
"Seeing as you seem to have some sort of amnesia, allow me to unveil my personal bio."  
  
Hermione was very quickly realizing just what irritating sort of person she had gotten stuck with. "Ugh. In that case, I should just go to sleep now and save myself the trouble."  
  
Draco just smirked once again in her direction. "I'm the person who makes you miserable all through Hogwarts until their tragic demise. In Slytherin, devilishly good looking.."  
  
It was then the recognition of his face came to Hermione. Draco. Draco Malfoy. With his name came a flood of memories-Wormtail pointing his wand at them both, two boys, one girl, and a teacher watching in shock. The two boys..Ron and Harry. The teacher..McGonagall. But the girl? She looked like Hermione. Exactly like Hermione. She didn't have a twin, did she? With Hermione's memory finally coming back, Hermione was quite sure she did not. Who was that girl, then?  
  
Hermione cut Draco off. "Goodness, no one can hit their head THAT hard. I could have had my skull bashed flatter than a pancake and I still would know that you are an annoying, arrogant git."  
  
"Your memory seems to be coming back rapidly," Draco observed. "But I feel compelled to mention that you left off incorrigible villian, clever rule breaker, sexiest.."  
  
"Ferret of the year?" added Hermione with a bit of a grin. "You know, that's the one other thing I remember now. You bouncing down the hallways as a rodent."  
  
"And I seem to remember the time you looked suspiciously like a Walrus wearing a wig."  
  
Hermione sighed and massaged her acheing forhead with her fingers. "I would have a comment to that, but I think I'll let it go just this once, seeing as my head feels like it was just rammed into by a bludger with Goyle riding atop."  
  
"Not far from it."  
  
"You saw?" asked Hermione curiously.  
  
"Only the underpit of your lovely arm before I blacked out."  
  
"Be serious. Did you see her?," persisted Hermione.  
  
"See who?"  
  
"The girl. Looked exactly like me. I only got a glimpse of her, but I could have sworn.."  
  
"No," said Draco shortly, deciding not to mention the boy he had seen that had been an exact carbon copy of himself. " I was a bit preoccupied. It's hard to focus when you're busy getting barreled into by the woman of steel herself."  
  
Their was the sound of pattering feet as Madame Pomfrey came back in, rushing right over to Hermione's and Draco's respective beds. "Both of you now, don't talk. I'm afraid you aren't fully recovered yet." She tutted tutted. "Really, I don't know what Hogwarts security is coming to."  
  
"Would you prefer the dementors to be back again?"   
  
Dumbledore stepped into the room. "Of course not, but really, when you-know-who's followers can step unto the train as easy as you please and harm to innocent students."  
  
Hermione gave a little cough. She strongly doubted Draco would be innocent even if he had a halo surrounding his head.  
  
"That matter is being attended to. Besides, I see no permanent damage caused."  
  
"Other then to their fragile minds, poor dears." At this, Draco hid his face behind his blanket and Hermione had a strong suspicion he was laughing. Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. "All too true, but it was only temporary."  
  
"Luckily," said Madame Pomfrey darkly. "I shudder to imagine what the result would have been if the spell used was something more lethal."  
  
"Both Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy are, I'm sure, as estatic it wasn't as you are. Could you give me a minute alone to talk to them both?"  
  
"I suppose, but not for too long. They are both in very delicate condition." And Madame Pomfrey left, giving Dumbledore a look as if she expected him to jinx Hermione and Draco the minute she was out of sight.  
  
Hermione leaned forward in her bed and began unwrapping a chocolate frog. Draco noticed she had loads of candy and cards piled up from various friends and well wishers while he had nothing. Not that he had expected anything. For a minute he amused himself by imagining Crabbe and Goyle showing up with bouqets of pink flowers and balloons.   
  
If they ever did, Crabbe or Goyle would probably get hungry halfway to the infirmary and eat the flowers themselves. He wouldn't put it past them. Once, in the first year, they had eaten plastic fruit thinking it was real, and the number of times they fell for those twin Weasley's stupid canary cream trick was a sad thing to think of.  
  
"Professor?" Hermione asked, her voice coming out slurred because of the chocolate she was munching on, "would you know anything about a girl that looks a good deal like me?"  
  
Malfoy snickered. "Only one girl could ever look like you. I didn't know moaning myrtle had taken to haunting the train."  
  
Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "As a matter of a fact, I do indeed. There seems to be a young man that looks like Draco here as well. Ron and Harry came to see me about the matter earlier. Very disturbed. Seemed to wonder why there were two versions of their best friend lurking around."  
  
"I somehow take it they didn't mean me," muttered Draco.   
  
"Ah, but a certain Padma was worried about you, Draco Malfoy. Seemed to think she was at last becoming as talented at hallucinating as Professor Trelawnry when she saw two of you on the train." Huh, thought Hermione, only time that old bat had ever hallucinated was when she lit three different kinds of incense at once.  
  
"What did you tell all of them?" Hermione was surprised to actually detect a hint of worry in Draco's voice.   
  
Dumbledore shrugged. "That some errant students decided attempt to polymorph into Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Both students have been sent up to my office this very minute for reprimanding. Mister Potter and Mister Weasley in particular didn't seem to have much trouble believing my story, perhaps because they have done as much before themselves."  
  
"Story?" Hermione finished the last of her chocolate frog and stepped out of bed, glad that she was still fully clothed. "So you didn't tell them the truth."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I may have stretched it a bit."  
  
Draco started to say something, but Dumbledore spoke before he could. "I know you must have a good deal of questions about this. ALL of this. " he stared pointedly at both of them. "If you'll follow me to my office, I'll explain what I can."  
  
**************  
  
Draco and Hermione made to enter Professor Dumbledore's office, but both stopped in the doorway upon seeing the three people already standing there. Draco glared at Draco. Hermione glared at Hermione. And most surprisingly of all, Dumbledore glared at Dumbledore.  
  
It was as if all three were staring into a giant mirror. Suddenly, the Dumbledore that Hermione and Draco had walked in with moved forward, spoiling the effect.  
  
The other Dumbledore spoke. "Just what do you think you're doing in MY office?"  
  
"Sorry, but this is necessary." Dumbledore pulled out his wand, gave it a swish and muttered a few words. The desired effect happened immediately. Hermione felt an immense pain in her chest as everything seemed to turn surreal. Next to her, the same thing was happening to Draco and to the mirror versions of both of them as well. Only the person in Dumbledore's likeness remained untouched.  
  
"Right. Which two of you are really Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy?"  
  
All four answered. Hermione could hear her voice, but she wasn't aware of her lips even moving. It seemed as it came from someone else and sounded oddly forced.   
  
"We are."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Of course you all are. How could I have not known? What I meant was, which two of you are the ones from the future?"  
  
The clones of Hermione and Draco said nothing. Hermione's voice came from Dumbledore's left and Draco's voice came from Dumbledore's right.  
  
"We are."  
  
"I suspected as much." Dumbledore gave another flourish of his wand and Hermione felt the pain slowly lifting from her body.  
  
**********  
  
Before anyone could speak, Dumbledore had raised his wand again, this time pointing it only at the three images standing in the corner, noted Hermione with a sense of relief, and not at her and Draco.  
  
Hermione and Draco watched in disbelief as the mirror versions of themselves and Dumbledore shrunk and shrunk until they were no bigger then the broken figurine of Krum that Ron owned. Dumbledore picked them up in his hand (all three were furiously fighting him with every miniscule limb they possessed) and stuffed them into a small see through glass box that was sitting on his desk.  
  
He gestured towards the small figures moving around the box. "Meet yourselves at fifteen."  
  
Draco made a face. "Too bad I never got past that age."  
  
Hermione just gaped. "You know," she stated simply.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "That both you and Mister Malfoy aren't really in your fifth year at Hogwarts? Yes, I know."  
  
"But how can you know? Unless..you also.." Draco trailed off.  
  
"You are correct. I'm not really the headmaster this year at Hogwarts. The other"- Dumbledore nodded towards the glass box again- " Dumbledore is. " You see, these represent all of us as we were in the past. Causes some confusion when you start traveling through time and having to put up with your old selves at various ages. Afraid I gave him-" Dumbledore jabbed his finger at the small bearded man yelling angrily through the glass box. "-quite a nasty shock prancing in here like that."  
  
Dumbledore observed as the tiny sized version of himself inside the box began kicking the glass, succeeded only in banging his shin, and began jumping up and down on his one foot and howling. "Believe I've gained a good deal of wisdom since then."  
  
"Are you building a dollhouse?" asked Draco. "Because I must say, your collection is off to an excellent start."  
  
"Professor," began Hermione as a warning as she also observed the glass box. "That one's getting out his wand..."  
  
Draco snorted. "Use your head, Granger. Their wands are about the size of pixie sticks, and about as useful as them, as well. About all they can do with them is make a miniature fireworks displays or, at worst, set fire to their robes."  
  
Hermione smiled. "Oh look, the one that favors you is waving around his wand like crazy-I just hope he doesn't turn himself into a ferret. I was rather leaning towards him going polka dotted, myself."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "You two are just the same at twenty five as you were at fifteen."  
  
"Slightly different," Draco reminded him. "I'm supposed to be dead."  
  
"Professor?" asked Hermione. "If you're from our time too, then do you know how to go back?"  
  
"I do. That's what I wanted to talk to you two about in my office. Please sit."  
  
Hermione took the couch and Draco went over and leaned against the armrest of a chair.  
  
"As far as I can figure out, you were sent here to defeat Salazer Slytherin."  
  
"Salazer Slytherin is deceased," said Draco. "His bones have eroded into nothingness. His body no longer functions. He has been taken away from the land of the living. In short, he's dead as a doornail."  
  
Dumbledore gave him a level look. "Even a death eater can't know everything. Salazer Slytherin's body may be dead, but his powers aren't anywhere near so. The fight with Voldemort this year, is, I'm sure, one you haven't forgotten?"  
  
"Ah, my tragic demise."  
  
Hermione glared. "You mean tragic accident."  
  
"You admit it was tragic, how sweet." Hermione would have responded with something ten times sharper if Dumbledore had not been standing there.  
  
"You have to fight him again. And this time, with a hopefully much brighter outcome."  
  
"You mean me staying alive," said Draco.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Oh, I don't know about that. He did say brighter.."  
  
"It would be to both of your best interests if both of you come out of the battle unharmed. Afterwards, you will be sent back even further into the past to face Salazer Slytherin."  
  
Draco covered a fake yawn. "Salazer's already died once. Why can't he just stay dead?"  
  
"You know, that question could be applied to other people as well," hinted Hermione. Spending time in a small confined space listening to Draco's nasal twang was not what she enjoyed doing.  
  
"Salazer Slytherin? Dead? Oh no. Far from it. His body is, perhaps, but his magical powers and his soul surely aren't. They've been passed down from dark wizard to dark wizard for years. If I knew how..I would have stopped it long before this, but, unfortunately, I don't. By defeating Salazer, you will not only get rid of him, but change the future. With him gone, no dark wizards will be able to become nearly as powerful... including Voldemort. "  
  
"And after we defeat him?" Hermione prompted. "You will be sent home," said Dumbledore.   
  
"How?" asked Malfoy.  
  
"That I cannot tell you."  
  
"What role do you play in this?" persisted Hermione.  
  
"I can't tell you that either."  
  
*************  
  
Draco shook his head as he walked out of Dumbledore's office with Hermione.  
  
"Well, that was pointless. He took us in, showed off a bit of flashy magic, then told us one thing we could have figured out on our own and two things that he doesn't feel in the mood to tell us but that we will probably figure out on our own anyway."  
  
"We?"  
  
Draco continued to walk alongside Hermione as they made their way down the halls.   
  
"I'm all for yelling insults at each other every waking moment and hating each other for all eternity, but if I can find a way to save myself from dying and prevent being dead in the future, then I'm taking it, even if it means actually learning your first name."  
  
Hermione grinned. "Actually learning? You're even more dense than I thought you were. Or deaf. Your pick."  
  
"Okay, so the insults part can continue, but I need to find a way out of here, and much as I hate to admit it, I might need your help."  
  
"Might." Hermione grinned. "Transalated from the language that is the Malfoy pride, that means you'll end up blowing yourself to smithereens if I don't help."  
  
As she and Draco rounded the corner, they found themselves running into none other but Harry and Ron.  
  
Both clearly thought she had lost her wits. Hermione didn't blame them. She knew what it most have looked like. Her and Draco..actually talking without several objects being thrown or curses being said?  
  
"Just went to the infirmary to check on you. Madame Pomfrey was in hysterics as to were you had gone off to. Mione, we were worried. You okay?" asked Harry.  
  
"Oh, don't worry about her. She's just peachy. Crippled, but she can still walk." Draco turned to Hermione. "I see your babysitters have arrived. Excuse me."   
  
He called back over his shoulder. "Don't forget to keep your hands away from her face. She bites."  
  
Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek to avoid running after Malfoy and giving a good sound wack over the head. If he wanted her help, he was going to have to do alot more convincing job of asking for it. Directing jabs at her wasn't exactly the most direct path to her heart.  
  
Ron glared after Draco's dissapearing form. "If only hexes were allowed, he'd be sporting a pig's tail, a frog's legs, and a face uglier than Snape's right now. What were you doing talking to the likes of him, Hermione?"  
  
"Come on, Ron," said Harry. "She did lose her memory temporarily after all. Draco was probably taking advantage of the moment to tell her he was the handomest guy in school with a heart of gold."  
  
Ron snorted. "More like stone."  
  
"That's true." Hermione gave a little half smile. "What both of you said."  
  
"Ohoh. Better go back to the infirmary. Not only have you lost your memory-you've lost your brain to boot," said Harry.  
  
"Maybe she switched hers with Goyle's," suggested Ron. " You know he actually found a way to the Slytherin table at breakfast today without bumping in anyone's chair or stepping on anyone's foot? It was amazing."  
  
"Flattered as I am by your comparison of me to Goyle, let me just restate things. Draco's handsome. He's also makes Fleur look unselfish, and his brain works exactly like a parrots would if it was stuck on the word mudblood."  
  
Ron couldn't get past the handsome part. "Hermione, he's MALFOY. Handsome not part of the picture, remember? Need I mention he's so elegant he probably eats pizza with a fork and knife?"  
  
Hermione was a bit annoyed. Goodness, she had forgotten just how deep the whole Weasley/ Malfoy hate relationship ran. "Oh, of course. Whereas if the queen of England visited you, you'd probably make her eat out of a frisbee."  
  
Ron's ears turned bright red. "Now you're into him. It's not every day you have two people comment on how poor you are."  
  
Hermione realized the words that had come out of her mouth and regretted them immediately. "Ron..I didn't mean it..not like that..."  
  
Ron huffed."You were sticking up for him. You must fancy him, then."  
  
"No way!"  
  
"You insulted him at the same time you said he was handsome." Ron shook his head mournfully. "Scratch fancying him, you must be in love with him."  
  
"Right. By your description, I suppose you and Viktor are secretly snogging in supply closets and Harry and Professor Trelawnry are putting all of those poofs in her class to good use."  
  
"Drop it, you two," said Harry. His eyes seemed to be fixated on something on down the corridor. "You have more important people to be mad at-like Snape, who is just coming around the corner and is going to give use detention for being out of the dormitories after hours."  
  
As Snape rounded the corner, leering unpleasantly at them, Hermione couldn't help but think that perhaps being sixteen again had its bad points-as much as it had its benefits.  
  
  
  
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PLEASE READ IF YOU WERE AT ALL CONFUSED BY THIS CHAPTER:1-The REAL Draco and Hermione and Dumbledore(not the clones) are the ones from the future that have been sent back to the past. 2-The Clones are really just the younger versions Dumbledore, Draco, and Hermione from the past. The Dumbledore from the future shrunk the clones so that they wouldn't be getting in the way, so to speak. 3-Draco and Hermione are going back to the past so that they can completely change the future. Think about it..if Salazer Slytherin's dead, then all those that have a part of his magical powers (or a link to him, so to speak) would be dead too. What if Voldemort and all dark wizards always became so because they had inherited some object that linked them to Salazer Slytherin?:)  
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link::http://pub39.ezboard.com/ffictionalleyfrm420  
end of chapter here 


	5. Prerequisite To A Ball

@The Corpse Behind The Hourglass@  
ch.5-Prerequisite To A Ball  
by:GoldenSilence  
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A/N=Time for me to babble nonstop again:)-and pay tribute to everyone that has reviewed the last chapter. Thanks to Sanna ( if you are still confused about this story, check the last chapter-I redid some small bits of it so the whole thing would make more sense and I added a little note at the end explaing things even further), Jessica(love the little smiley faces you put at the end of your reviews!), Voltora, and Chrissy (all three of you keeping track of and reviewing my stuff is so very appreciated!), Gary Skinner (Eeek. I'm writing. I'm writing! So many stories..so little time.:)), ljp (Sean Biggerstaff..Bigger..staff...*chorkle*..*snicker*..*falls over laughing*. I liked Tom Felton too, quite the dashing fellow:P-but no offense, he needs a retainer), bakkakidmily (eek. Hope I got your name right), feminist angel (didn't think you would actually review this. Wow.:)) and Innus435 (thanks for the flattering review-I think my ego just popped..j/k.)  
  
This chapter has some Ron/Hermione moments-but it most certainly will NOT stay that way as I am not the biggest of Ron/Hermione fans. (Just read my lovely rant of a bio.:)) *Shiver*..I will NOT succumb to making this a Ron/Hermione fanfic.. Opinions are welcome! *Psst*..I need a beta reader..I really need a beta reader..send me an e-mail if you're at all interested!  
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Two months had passed since Snape had given Hermione, Ron, and Harry detention for being in the hallways after hours. Two months. Two very monotonous and tedious months when you already knew everything everyone was going to say and do, which Hermione and Draco both did. Sometimes, Hermione found herself mouthing along with what someone was saying. Even Fred and George's jokes weren't all that funny when you'd already heard them five years ago. Plus, there were classes. When she had truly been fifteen, Hermione hadn't needed the teachers to explain a single piece of information twice-she'd learned fairly quickly. But now, reliving her adolescence all over again, Hermione didn't need anything explained so much as once. Sitting in a chair for an hour listening to information for the OWLs when you had already taken the NEWTS was-there was no doubt about it- boring.  
  
Hermione found herself almost wishing Voldemort would hurry up and attack Harry just to speed life up a little, as much as she hated to admit it. Draco, speaking his mind freely, had said exactly the same. If they had to have gotten sent back to the past, couldn't they at least have gotten sent back to a time just a tad more closer to the part they had to change?   
  
Both Hermione and Draco were looking forward to two more weeks much like the first two months they had already gone through. Hermione was using her time to study up on everything about time traveling and dark curses in preparation for facing Voldemort and Salazer Slytherin. She was perturbed to find that Draco wasn't doing the same. In fact, Draco wasn't doing much of ANYTHING aside from being his usual annoying git of a self.  
  
Perhaps annoying git wasn't strong enough a word, Hermione reflected as she watched Draco kiss Parvarti, Ron's ex girlfriend from the fifth year if Hermione remembered correctly, in free abandon...and of course, right in front of Ron.  
  
Sitting atop a pile of pillows and grading that day's exam, Professor Flitwick gave a noisy cough in the direction of Draco and Parvarti, trying to give them a hint to get a move on. Get a move on was obviously something they didn't plan on doing for a good number of hours.  
  
Ron obviously didn't plan on moving either. Hermione and Harry were both tugging on his arm, trying to get him to budge away from the frame of the doorway, where he was staring, looking as if at any moment he was either going to punch Draco and Parvarti, or, as Harry had prevented him from doing by instantly grabbing his wand, cast the nastiest spell he could think of on the both of them.  
  
  
"Lemmigo!" Ron hissed angrily at both Harry and Hermione. "I can take care of myself."  
  
"I don't doubt that. I'm not worried about you. Just your mental health," grunted Harry as he tried once again, fruitlessly, to push Ron out the door.  
  
"Come on Ron," encouraged Hermione. "Much as I see the merits of you setting Malfoy on fire, I have a feeling Professor Flitwick wouldn't feel quite the same way."  
  
"What about turning him into a ferret?" asked Ron, his teeth clenched. "I could always say he was an animagus-they always change into their animal form when they get really excited..."  
  
"Not a chance." Hermione and Harry finally got Ron out the door. "Though, come to think of it, he would look rather nice as a blast ended screwt."  
  
"What would Ron want to turn him into that for?" demanded Harry. "From the look of things, Malfoy and Parvarti are already gobbling each other up."  
  
Ron was walking at a furious pace, his strides covering twice as much distance as both Hermione's and Harry's. " Can you believe it? And right in front of the teachers too! Honestly, how low can you go? I hope Professor Flitwick takes off twenty points from them both."  
  
"Errm," ventured Harry. "But Parvarti's in Gryffindor, remember?"  
  
"So?" asked Ron, far too angry to think straight.   
  
"That'd be point taken away from your own house," pointed out Harry when Ron failed to make the connection for himself.  
  
"I-I..I..They can take one hundred points away from Gryffindor for all I care. She deserves it."  
  
"Honestly, Ron, can't you just forget you ever saw the two of them together? It's not her fault her brainlessness is only matched by Malfoy's. There are plenty of other girls who would go out with you, Ron..and well, kissing isn't illegal, you know."   
  
Hermione felt a bit shocked-where on earth had that come from? Perhaps it was because she was upset as Ron over seeing Malfoy and Parvarti kissing. Or perhaps it was because she was sick of Ron moping over losing Parvarti. Hermione raced off ahead of both Ron and Harry, feeling both emberassed and VERY like a fifteen year old-instead of the twenty year old she knew she was on the inside.   
  
"I'm beginning to think it should be," muttered Ron just at the same time as Harry asked "What's with her?"  
  
Shrugging at each other and blaming it on some crazy female mood swing, both Ron and Harry were about to enter the Great Hall themselves when the white piece of parchment that Hermione had failed to notice on her way in caught their attention.  
  
"THIS is what's with her," said Ron wisely, nodding at the paper, which was tacked on to one of the massive, carved wooden doors.  
  
"Ball? A ball? But since when does?-"  
  
"Since we became fifth years, I'm guessing," said Ron excitedly, all trace of anger and wrongdoing at seeing Draco and Parvarti kissing having fanished...probably at the prospect of finally having a chance to ask Hermione to a dance, thought Harry without much of a sense of threat. He was planning on asking Hermione himself..but if it meant hurting Ron's feelings..  
  
Still, he was going to ask her. They could simply say they were going as friends if Ron asked. No harm in that. Besides, everyone, himself included, knew Hermione had had a crush on him since last year, Harry reassured himself.  
  
"Well, I hope we've at least got a week or so to try and ask a girl. Remember what happened last year?"  
  
Ron groaned. "I rather not, if that's alright with you." Harry could sympathize. He had wanted to go with Cho Chang, a very pretty seeker on Ravenclaw's quidditch team, but she had refused him, going with Cedric Diggory instead. Whereas Ron, Harry figured, had wanted to go with Hermione, but simply couldn't work on the nerve to ask her-until too late when she had already been asked by Krum. Not this year. Harry wasn't going to waste a moment in asking Hermione to the ball. Even if Ron hadn't learned from last year's ball, Harry had.  
  
Harry read over the rest of the parchment before suddenly giving a cry of indignation. "November fourteenth? But that's today! They expect us to get a date in less than eight hours??"  
  
"Guess they don't believe in advance warnings," Harry said under his breath as he stared at the paper.  
  
Ron shook his head. "Bet you the sign's already been up for a week and we were the only two people dim enough not to notice it. Ugh. If I hadn't been studying for my OWLS so hard..."  
  
"Oh well," said Harry miserably. "There's always bound to be someone that hasn't gotten asked yet."  
  
"Yeah, there is." For a minute Harry thought Ron was going to say Moaning Myrtle. "Hermione," Ron stated simply. "And now she's going to go through that whole speech on how we didn't notice she was girl until it was too late blahblahblah."   
  
"Not that I mean to ask her or anything," Ron added hastily as Harry gave him a strange glance. "It's just you'd have a better chance with a rock."  
  
"We may end up stuck with one if we don't hurry," said Harry, pushing open the doors to the Great Hall and walking in, Ron following behind him. Both spotted Hermione at the same time and began walking towards her chair. It was a race, thought Harry uncomfortably. A race to see who would ask her first, for in spite of Ron's words earlier, Harry had no doubt that he would do so.  
  
*************  
  
It was for that reason that the minute Hermione excused herself from the table, saying she was going to the library to study, Harry jumped up as well, pouncing on his chance to talk to her alone. Ron raised an eyebrow as he watched the two of them leave, but said nothing and simply went back to munching on a jelly filled donut.  
  
She had been going to go to the library to find out more on Salazer Slytherin, but Hermione couldn't now. Not with Harry tagging along. How could she explain checking out "Daring Derriem's book of Deadly Spells" to him? She couldn't.   
  
Half an hour later, Hermione had scanned the books from start to finish. Useless. Of course, the only reason she was reading them was to put up the appearance of studying in front of Harry. Too bad she hadn't sneaked the first volume of "Curses for the Careful" from the library shelf. She could have put it inside her copy of "OWLS-What Every Student Needs To Know" and read it instead.   
  
One look at Harry's face as he pretended to read through "101 Tips for the OWLS" and Hermione groaned inwardly. She knew exactly why he was so nervous he looked as if he was about to bite his fingernails. Bugger. Was it that day already?  
  
Finally, after sneaking several side glances at Hermione throughout the course of their studying, Harry cleared his throat.   
  
"Umm..Hermione..you know about the ball?"  
  
Hermione sighed. Apparently, it was that day already. "Yes," she said in a resigned sort of voice, counting down the seconds it took until Harry would frame his next question.  
  
"Well. Youhaven'tgotadateyethaveyou?"  
  
Harry coughed and tried again. "I mean, you haven't got someone you're going with?"  
  
Hermione shook her head and Harry looked overjoyed. "Well, you will go with me then, won't you?"  
  
Her book fell out of her hands with a loud clatter to the floor, but Hermione didn't even notice. She was reliving an experience she wasn't all that keen to remember. How could he just presume she was going to go to the dance with him? She had never thought as Harry Potter as arrogant, but at that moment, his statement seemed to be full of it.  
  
I said yes to him in my fifth year, Hermione reminded herself. I said yes and we went and we had a wonderful time. Don't go changing the past, Hermione told herself fiercly. Or you'll end up changing the future as well. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing, hinted a sly voice in her head. Maybe Ron was the-  
  
No! thought Hermione. I saw Harry when I looked in the Mirror of Erised, didn't I? Not Ron. Not Ron. Harry. It has to be Harry.  
  
It was a thought Hermione had to keep repeating to herself over and over even as Harry studied her face, waiting for an answer. She couldn't not go with Harry. She had a baby with Harry in the future, for god's sake, even if the baby was still yet unborn. If she so much as even dated Ron in the past, the baby might never end up exsisting..  
  
But Hermione didn't want to go with Harry. Her feelings about him were quite different from when she had truly been fifteen and asked her to the ball. Then, she had been excited. So excited she hadn't even noticed the words coming out of Harry's mouth, only that he was asking her to the ball. Her. Not Cho, or one of the numerous other girls that yearned to go with him, but her.  
  
Now, she found herself looking him right back in the eye, trying to think of the right words to put into a refusal. She felt nothing if not confused.  
  
And she knew who she wanted to go with. The one she had shunted aside-unknowingly, but still- the minute Harry had proclaimed his liking for her. The one that would still feel shunted aside five years later when she and Harry were married with a child of their own. She had treated Ron terribly after this very upcoming ball. That, Hermione tried to convince herself, was why she didn't want to go with Harry. Ron deserved to experience the thing he had been dreaming of forever, even if it only lasted for a few hours.  
  
Nothing serious. She could go to the pary with Ron and her future with Harry would remain the same, married and all. Right?  
  
Harry's glance had gone from confident, to nervous, and was now settling on worried.  
"No. Sorry, Harry, but I can't go with you."  
  
Harry nodded. He didn't look terribly upset. " Why, if you don't mind my asking?"  
  
"Becuase," Hermione said clearly and plainly, not wanting to mince her words, even for Harry's sake. "Because I have someone else I want to take me."  
  
Harry's brow furrowed. "But you told me you hadn't been asked by-"  
  
"I wasn't." With a last apolegetic sorry, Hermione swept out of the library, completely forgetting all of the books she had been reading, including the one that had fallen out of her hands and was still lying prone on the floor.   
  
Harry sat in the chair as if frozen to the spot, simply staring aimlessly at nothing before he too made his mind to get up and left abruptly. Strangely, he didn't feel all that dissapointed. He hadn't expected Hermione to say no, that was true, but it wasn't the end of the world. He could ask Ginny. She and him had become quite good friends over the past months-and besides, she was pretty. With her flaming red hair and dark brown eyes, even prettier than Hermione, in Harry's opinion.   
  
Just whom, thought Harry curiously as he walked down a set of winding stairs searching for Ginny, did Hermione want to go to the ball with?  
  
*********  
  
Hermione had found just who she had been looking for. Ron, languidly sprawled out on his bed in the Gryffindor Boy's dormitory. The instant he saw Hermione, he hastily crawled under his covers.  
  
"Hermione! This is the boy's dormitory. What are you doing in here?"  
  
Hermione stared at Ron. "What are you doing here yourself?"  
  
Ron shrugged, only his long nose visible over the quilt. "Oh that. I didn't ask anyone to the ball. I'm not going. My robes are horrid, anyhow." Ron gestured to the guilded chest in front of his bed, where a set of bright orange robes were folded. "They were pink, so I tried to dye them blue," he told Hermione miserably. "But thanks to my rotten wand, they ended up orange instead."  
  
"I don't see what's so bad about them. They're the color of your favorite quidditch team," pointed out Hermione.  
  
Her words had the opposite effect she had intended. Ron glared. "Right. Just what I always wanted. Robes to go with my hair. They'll probably end up red in the end, from all the punch Malfoy'll splash on my robes claiming he thought I was on fire."  
  
Hermione didn't say a word about the fact that if Ron truly wasn't going, he shouldn't be worrying over Malfoy's reaction to his robes. Instead, she took out her wand, gave it a hasty wave in the direction of the offending articles of clothing, and muttered a few words under her breath.  
  
Slowly, the robes turned from orange to blue. "There," said Hermione. "Better?"  
  
"Thanks. But you didn't have to exert yourself. I'm not wearing them."  
  
"Of course. I'll just nip down to the kitchens and get Dobby's tea cozy for you to borrow, shall I? It'll look lovely with a pair of tights and a little set of shoes with bells on them."  
  
"You'll need Dobby's stuff more than I do if you don't hurry and get ready for the ball. It's starting soon." Ron pulled his blankets all the way over his head. "Go ahead. Have a good time. I'm not stopping you."  
  
It was at that moment the grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed. Only an hour and a half left. She had to hurry it up.  
  
Hermione sighed. "Ron, why do you have to be so pig headed?"  
  
"What are you getting on about?" demanded a muffled voice from underneath the covers. "All I'm saying is that you ought to hurry and get dressed for the ball. I'm sure Harry's waiting for you."  
  
So that was why Ron was so mad, Hermione realized. The summer of her fourth year-how could she have forgotten? Her and Harry's first kiss. At the burrow. The fleeting form of Ron after he had seen both of them. All three of them awkwardly spending the next few weeks pretending it had never happened.  
  
The never had spoken of it-not even after Harry and Hermione were married and Ron had begun dating Lavender. Well, this time Hermione wasn't going to pretend.   
  
"Ron," she said gently. "That kiss with Harry at the burrow didn't mean a thing."  
  
"Just like you visting Vicky in Romania, I suppose." Ron's voice was still muffled, but Hermione could now see the top of his head of red hair peeking out from underneath the mound of blankets.  
  
"For goodness sakes," Hermione exploded. "I don't need a mother. I already have one, thanks all the same."  
  
Ron's head promptly dissapeared back underneath the covers. "Lovely to know I'm appreciated."  
  
He's speaking the truth, thought Hermione suddenly. Always Harry's shadow. Even after he's been made a prefect and all, it's still the same way.  
  
"You can be so dense!" she yelled out loud, glad that the Gryffindor Boy's dormitories at least seemed to be empty save for herself and Ron.  
  
Ron's face had now appeared, along with his arms and chest-both of which were, Hermione noted bemusedly, bare.  
  
"No, 'Mion, you can. Dating every boy that kisses your royal feet. Might as well buy Harry a crown and septer, yourself a tiara, and get it all over with."  
  
Hermione stared straight at Ron without so much as batting an eyelash. "Trust you to bring up analogies to chess at a time like this. Ron, can't you just say flat out what you feel? Because it's obvious and I'm pretty sure I already know."  
  
Ron's ears and face turned bright read and he gave an odd sort of half choke, half murmur. "Oh you do, do you? Fine. I've liked you since last year when I acted like such a addlepated git. Still am acting like one, actually, considering I'm telling you something I swore I never would."  
  
Hermione fiddled with her hands, sitting down on the edge of Ron's bed. "Listen, we've been talking-"  
  
Ron gave a snort. "-Constructively disagreeing-"  
Ron snorted again. "-Oh, fine. Flat out argueing, for half an hour now. All because you want to ask me one question but don't have the guts."  
  
"Don't have the guts?" asked Ron. He still sounded angry, but a good deal less so. "Did you have a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean stuck in your ear when I told you I liked you a minute ago?"  
  
Hermione gave a laugh. "Sure. I keep a few in my belly button and one stuck up in my nose for extra supply, but you're right, ears are by far the best place to store them."  
  
Ron gave a slight smile, looking a bit cheered up, though his ears were still a most brilliant shade of crimson.   
  
"Ron," said Hermione, turning serious. "I can't honestly say I like you-"   
  
Ron's face dropped. "I know. Harry. That's why I wasn't going to tell you."  
  
"-because," continued Hermione as if she really had a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean stuck in her ear and hadn't heard a word Ron had just said. "I've never seen how you would act other than as a best friend."   
  
"A jealous one," she added.  
  
Ron just blinked. "I'm confused."  
  
"Ron, you dolt! I'm giving you a chance to ask me to the ball."  
  
"Ooh. Oh. Well then." Ron didn't seem quite sure how to react. His ears were turning, if possible, even redder, and a smile stretched across the length of his similiarly colored face. "Well. Will you?"  
  
The smile on Ron's face suddenly vanished. "Wait a minute, if Fred or George put you up to this by paying you so much as one canary cream-"  
  
Hermione smiled. "They didn't. And I will."  
  
"Ummm..right. You had better get out while I change, then."  
  
Hermione, having caught a glimpse of what Ron was wearing-or, to be more exact, not wearing- grinned to herself. "What? You aren't going to go in your plaid boxers?"  
  
Ron gave a start. "How did yo-?" He stopped midsentence, looked at Hermione sheepishly, and then decided to get out of bed, plaid boxers and all.   
  
He began pushing Hermione towards the door. "Much as I'd love everyone to see me in flannel, I don't think the multi colored toe socks would go over quite as well."  
  
Catching a glimpse of Ron's rainbow clad toes, Hermione couldn't refrain from laughing. "No. They wouldn't."   
  
"But you're bare chest would!" she whispered to Ron as he closed the door, causing him to turn red more than ever. Hermione herself blushed as she realized what she had just said. Arrgh. I'm five years older than him! What was I thinking?   
  
You may be five years older, but you're stuck in a fifteen year old's body-might as well enjoy it, Hermione reminded herself.  
  
"Meet me in front of the girl's dormitories at eight!" she yelled at the closed door before walking off.  
  
***********  
  
Ron, dressed in his best robes, walked down to the Gryffindor Common Room, only to be greeted by George, Fred, and Lee. All three took one look at his unsure expression and started practically having kittens over the whole thing.  
  
"So Hermione finally asked you to the dance. Congrats! I knew she would!" stated Jordan.  
  
Ron sank into a chair in confusion. "Am I that transparent?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You're pretty much all the way see-through," remarked George.  
  
"Ah, I wouldn't say that." Fred winced. "Not a pretty mental image. Let's just stick with gullible, shall we?"  
  
"First I was transparent, now I'm gullible. Make up your mind."  
  
Both twins shrugged good naturedly.  
  
"We could make up our minds," said Fred. "But by the time we did, there would be a large imprint of your butt on the chair you're sitting in," added George.  
  
"Soo," said Lee. "Hermione likes you? Or doesn't she?"  
  
Ron prepped a bit in front of the mirror of the fireplace, running a hand through his hair nervously. "That's just it. I have no clue."   
  
"Well, you did ask her to the dance," said Lee.  
  
"Goyle did the same thing with a blow up doll," muttered Ron.  
  
"So? You're saying you'd rather spend your time making eyes at your figurines of the Chudley Cannon team?" asked George.  
  
"No! I'm just saying.."  
  
"You don't know what you're saying, " put in Fred helpfully.  
  
Ron shook his head. "You'd be befuddled too if a girl whose never shown any interest in you was suddenly asking you to a ball."  
  
"Not if I was wearing boxers and nothing else when she asked, I wouldn't," snorted George.  
  
Ron turned around to give him a glare. "You were spying on me, weren't you?"  
  
"Who? Me? No, of course not."  
  
"All of us were," said Lee Jordan.  
  
"Good strategy with the , by the way. Maybe I ought to use that on Angelina when I ask her," pondered Fred. "Minus the boxers."  
  
George, Ron, and Lee all snickered. "'You'd blind her," pointed out George, forgetting that he and Fred were twins, and therefor, looked exactly the same.  
  
"Tsk..tsk..you and your self pity," said Fred with a fake sigh. "It's really disturbing, George."  
  
"I don't have any boxers, anyway," Fred continued.  
  
"How about long johns?" asked Lee.  
  
George snapped his fingers. "Oh yes, that's it. The flap in the back is a major turn on. And they'll be all nice and form fitting considering they're what? Eight years old?"  
  
Ron chorkled. "They wouldn't so much as fit over your arm, Fred."  
  
Fred, George, and Lee, who were STILL not dressed up yet for the dance, made for the exit of the common room. "If you'll excuse us," said Lee. "We have a dance to get ready for."  
  
"And some girls to snog..ermm..we mean ask," said George.  
  
"Snog first and then ask or ask first and then snog? That is the question," proclaimed Lee as he and the twins opened the door to leave the room.  
  
Fred and George shook their heads. "Reciting Shakespeare," said George. "Badly modified, of course, " added Fred.  
  
Lee smiled proudly. "It brings in the ladies, what can I say?"  
  
"Just don't start reciting poetry," said Ron. "Or the ladies will rapidly run, trust me."  
  
Fred and George pulled Lee out of the room, Lee exclaiming dramatically as he left in a pretend high pitched voice. "Alas! That brother of yours doesn't understand the true art of stating one's emotions eloquently!"  
  
"Neither do we," said Fred. Ron could hear every word the twins and Lee spoke as they made their way to ask their respective interests to the ball.   
  
"But we don't have to," said George, already thinking of Alicia. "We've got girlfriends."  
  
"That depends," said Lee, who was planning to ask Katie. "On if we get there in time to ask them at least thirty minutes before the ball starts. Otherwise, we'll look like we were avoiding the whole thing."  
  
Fred's voice dripped sarcasm. "Geez, you think?"  
  
**************  
  
Hermione was rounding the corner to the girl's dormitories when she ran into someone very unexpected. Draco. Hermione was not on good terms with Draco at the moment, to say the least. He seemed to have no plan for either defeating Voldemort, or saving his life, and he certainly had no plans for defeating Salazer Slytherin as well.  
  
"What are YOU doing here?" asked Hermione pointedly, making it clear that Draco was the last person she wanted to run into at the moment.  
  
Draco shrugged. "Aren't people allowed to roam the halls?"  
  
"Right. You were just going for a walk in the halls-in front of the Gryffindor Girl's dormitories, might I add. Unless you can see through walls and wanted to get a peek at everyone in their undies, I don't quite grasp your motive."  
  
"Am I that shallow?"  
  
"Yes. Now why were you pacing in front of the girl's dormitories?"  
  
Malfoy's eyes flashed indignantly. "I was not pacing. I was walking. Walking past as fast as I could to try and avoid a certain bushy haired girl coming around the corner."  
  
Hermione sighed. "You really aren't going to tell me, are you?"  
  
"Covering up Voldemort's tracks with a broom. Want the steps leading the Gryffindor Girl's dormitory to be nice and spic and span, you know."  
  
Hermione gave him a horrified and unamused look. Draco laughed harshly. "Own up. You couldn't be more suspicious of me if I carried stick of dynamite instead of a wand."  
  
"I have every right to be suspicious!" protested Hermione.   
  
"Oh come on, we were both sent back here to defeat Voldemort and Salazer Slytherin and you know it," hissed Draco in a low voice.  
  
"No, I don't. In fact, I think you're highly more likely to be working for them both."  
  
Draco looked at her with a face of no expression. "What would you say if you knew I wasn't a death eater?"  
  
Hermione just gaped at him. "What?"  
  
"We can change the past, can't we?" He gave a tight lipped grin as he glanced at Hermione. "Oh, don't get your hopes up, Granger. I said 'yet'."  
  
And without further ado, Draco Malfoy walked off, his pale blonde hair vanishing with the rest of him into the shadows. Shadows, that Hermione couldn't help thinking as she watched Draco walk off, her mind a tumble of emotions, suited the sort of person he was very well.  
  
************  
Next chapter features:  
The ball! Yay! Ron/Hermione no more..yay! *evil looks from all Ron/Hermione fans*..ermm..I mean..darn??  
and the return of the central plot and choices that were never easy to begin with having to be made all over again.  
Lots more Evilyetdroolinglyhandsome! and confusedandtormented! Draco to come.:)  
---chapter ends here------- 


	6. The Yule Ball

@The Corpse Behind The Hourglass@  
  
(6/?)-Yule Ball  
  
by:GoldenSilence  
  
link:  
  
http://pub39.ezboard.com/BBSUser.fromWeb?boardName=fictionalley&back=fiction alley&language=EN  
  
email:flipgal14@yahoo.com  
  
category:Romance/Drama  
  
keywords:Draco, Hermione, Harry/Hermione, Draco/Hermione  
  
spoilers:PS/SS,  
  
rating:PG  
  
summary: Harry. Hermione. Draco. One thing that happened years ago changed forever the life of one of them-and will change two of their lives all over again.  
  
disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet" is a quote from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.  
  
------  
  
A/N=Central plot? What central plot? j/k, of course. Consider this chapter a nice diversion where I get to play around with characterization..the next will have a bit of that too, but it will also have more of a plot..MUCH more of one. I was going to combine both of the chapters, but sorry, I've been quite busy with my life these past two weeks...(*cough*studyingforfinals=hell*cough*) and so you will just have to wait! I will try to update faster, though-christmas break starts today, after all! Joy!-but I still have five other stories I'm writing (better than the seven I used to have, but still..^ - ^) 'Till then, I have a simple equation..reviews=happy me=faster updates=happy you..(wow, I really have been doing too much homework*shudder*) Thanks to everyone that reviewed the previous installment:  
  
Hermione/Ron is only for two chapters, people! So please don't flame me saying Hermione/Ron sucks..I know it does...ermm..*eyes people holding rotten fruit* I mean..I like both of them fine (I am in a Ron fanclub for goodness sakes!) but .they make much better friends, trust me.:)  
  
Happy holidays, everyone! (blame my festiveness on catching a glimpse of FF10 at Wal Mart-wooohooo!)  
  
Angelina/Fred, Lee/Alicia, and Katie/George moments are dedicated to all those people who gripe that there will never be a story with all three couplings!  
  
-----------  
  
The moment Hermione entered the girl's dormitories she was bombarded by none other than the duo of Parvati and Lavender, both of whom were just finishing up the extremely trying task of plucking their eyebrows. They didn't even have the patience to wait until after Hermione had changed out of her robes before they questioned her.  
  
Inquisitive souls, both of them. Inquisitive and wanting to have the satisfaction of knowing whom each and every girl was going to the Yule ball with before the ball had even started.  
  
"So, don't leave us in suspense. Who's the lucky guy?" asked Parvati as Hermione stepped out of her robes and a lifted a dress of soft, swishy material over her head.  
  
Struggling to close the miniscule clasps that fastened the dress in back, Hermione spoke sarcastically. "Which? The one I snogged or the one taking me to the Yule ball? It is so difficult to keep track of them these days."  
  
Lavender grinned as she put on a slathering of glitter. "I hear numbering 'em helps," she joked before suddenly turning serious. "Hermione, you do know Ginny's going with Harry, don't you?"  
  
Hermione's hands slipped as she tried to slide a high heeled shoe over her foot, leading her to step on two of her fingers. Rubbing them for a minute in pain, she looked weakly back at Lavender and Parvati. "I know," she fibbed.  
  
If she had admitted she had no clue what they were talking about, she would have had to hear every last petty detail of how Harry had asked Ginny. Lavender and Parvati were very accurate at relaying such information. Hermione highly suspected they were only, at most, two feet away from every major (and minor) crisis or event that happened at Hogwarts-the exception, she hoped, being the conversation that had taken place between herself, Draco, and Dumbledore in his office a few weeks hence.  
  
However, both Lavender and Parvati, astute observers that they were, noted the expression on Hermione's face. Parvati smiled reassuringly in her direction.  
  
"Oh, for goodness sake, don't take it so hard. It's not like they're getting married or anything."  
  
"Else, trust us, we would have heard the proposal," added Parvati, with a similiar smile, trying to cheer Hermione up.  
  
"And already know just what the bride was wearing so you could color coordinate with her dress," added Hermione, refusing to show how upset she was. She had refused Harry, after all.  
  
"Why would we want to color coordinate with her dress? The bouqet is much more important," said Lavender.  
  
"Very important," added Parvati. "Got to have the shoes match the flowers, you know. Otherwise, it's simply gastly."  
  
"Oh, of course. Don't want all the munchkins invited seeing your clashing footwear," Hermione noted.  
  
"Naturally." Lavender nodded mock seriousness. "They already have such horrible fashion sense as it is-we wouldn't want to set a bad example."  
  
Harry and Ginny might as well be getting married, thought Hermione glumly. What happened if after the ball, they started dating? And then figured out from there that they did want to get married? Okay, so that was jumping to conclusions a bit, but just the same..  
  
It's my fault. I never should have asked Ron, Hermione fretted. What if this is the way things turn out in the future? Me and Harry's baby, she thought, feeling strangely lonely. What about my baby? It may not exsist now, but if Harry and Ginny or me and Ron...well, it might never exsist. But to go back to the past and not be free to change it as you wanted to, for fear of how it would affect the life you had in the future, that was no better.  
  
Part of Hermione wanted to admit she wanted to change the life she lived in the future-and how she came to live such a life. Her dating Harry, their engagement, marriage, life together-it all seemed the workings of a carboard fairytale. Perfect, but yet something was lacking. Something beneath the surface, threatening to froth over.  
  
And now, back in the past, she was taking the chances and risks; seeing the possibilites she'd never thought of before. But would the outcome still be the same? Or was her asking Ron to the dance (and, in some wierd sense, Draco being alive again) more than just a possibility?  
  
A voice interrupted Hermione's pondering. "So you really don't mind?"  
  
Hermione knew Parvati was still on about Ginny and Harry.  
  
"I'm fine with it," she said, the tone of her voice sounding and her features looking a bit more convincing on this matter than they had when she had first been privy to the news. "In fact, I'm going with someone else."  
  
Hermione finished her last minute preparations for the ball and was about to work her hair into a french twist when she got a good look at the clock and instead opted for two strands in braids held together at the back of her head, the rest of her hair flowing freely down past her shoulders.  
  
She then left the girl's dormitories altogether, Lavender and Parvati pestering her all the way to the door, trying to come with the answer as to whom her date could possibly be.  
  
"Neville?" guessed Lavender.  
  
"Dean?" questioned Parvati.  
  
"Lee?" Lavender took another guess.  
  
"Nope, nope, and definitely not," replied Hermione. "You should save your breath. You'll be seeing him in ten minutes, after all."  
  
"We will?" asked Parvati, puzzled. "But why? The girl's dormitories aren't the best place for snogging," she said in a confedential tone. "I suggest you stake out a spare closet, instead."  
  
"Or, in Seamus's case, a greenhouse," Lavender said with a snicker.  
  
"Mind your own business," grumbled Parvati, blushing. It was obvious who her date was.  
  
"Thanks and all, but I don't need snogging spot reccomendations," said Hermione, finding herself grinning a bit at the other two girl's cheerfulness-it was infectious. "You aren't going to be meeting him in any dormitories. You'll be meeting him at the ball."  
  
"It starts in ten minutes!?" shouted Lavender in horror, fiddling to put in a pair of earrings.  
  
"Only ten minutes?" exclaimed Parvarti in an equal amount of shock (though, part of that shock could have been the result of her thirty watt hairdryer being used on still damp hair.)  
  
Pandemonium began as both girls hurriedly started running this way and that to get ready, the end result of this being Parvarti stepping on Lavender's eyelash curler.  
  
"See you there!"  
  
Hermione quickly shut the door behind her, hustled across the hall, and down one flight of stairs after another to reach the place where the dance was being held.  
  
***********  
  
Draco, unlike Hermione, was not lingering around his house's dormitories simply because he needed to prepare for the dance. No, he had been dressed since long ago (or thirty minutes ago, at least) and the only reason he had not yet left for the ball was because more important things had kept him.  
  
More important things being an owl swooping up to the tower Draco was in, and-in an attempt to get inside and deliver his letter- pecking with his beak furiously at the latch that held the windows shut, not stopping until Draco had unlocked them.  
  
The bird flew through the now ajar window with so much force he nearly bowled Draco over altogether. Amid the flurry of feathers and sharp talons, Draco snatched the letter. Recognizing the seal and the owl that was still flapping around agitatedly almost at once as belonging to his father, Draco gave the letter only a cursory glance over.  
  
As he expected, the lettter was his father's usual cherry missal. Draco's eyes skipped over the words "Voldemort", "death" and "Harry Potter" several times, but it was the small parcel that dropped out of the envelope that intrigued him.  
  
Draco fingered the thing curiously. A ring? But why on earth?  
  
Unless his father wanted him and Blaise to become engaged, which Draco hardly doubted. The whole contrived thing couldn't have been more obvious if Blaise's parents had bought him a tux and his parents had bought her a veil. Too bad his father didn't know he wasn't taking Blaise to the ball. Draco would have loved to see his face upon hearing such-probably would have brought a whole new angle of meaning to the term "spontanously combusted."  
  
Draco turned his attention from the ring back to the fragile leaf of paper in hand. Scanning the ending of the letter, he found the answer to his question. A ring as a gift for tonight's "occasion"?  
  
Looking at himself in the mirror, Draco ran a hand through his hair and turned to go out the door, dropping the letter into the fireplace as he went.  
  
And the edges of the letter burned and smoltered under the heat of the flames, but the true intention and malice hidden behind those ink words scrawled in a spidery print could not be vanquished so easily. The ring Draco held clutched in his palm was proof enough of that; a ring that would have burned Harry Potter's skin more black than the letter itself.  
  
A letter which was now merely a smudge blending with the coals in the grate. A letter, that, in its own way, would burn Malfoy as well.  
  
For it did not discern between different wizards-it controlled them, and he controlled it. He, who was, in turn, ruled by the most powerful dark wizard of them all. One that may have ceased to exsist in body but had-in spirit, mind, and soul- lost none of his potency.  
  
Draco puzzled over the trinket as he made his way down a winding flight of steps, the staircase closely compacted by the stone walls on either side. He understood what his father wanted him to think the ring was for, a celebratory sort of gift for both his upcoming sixteenth birthday and the ball-hah, now that was really bloodly likely- but what was it really for?  
  
Shrugging, Draco slipped the ring onto his right thumb. Once in contact with his skin, it happened. The jewel embedded in the middle of the ring turned a funny sort of green color, a green color that swirled around the center as if part of a miniature cloud.  
  
Draco felt as if by the ring's touch, a venom had entered his very skin. A venom, and with it, a flood of feelings, thoughts, and memories that were not his own.  
  
That was when it hit him exactly what the ring's purpose was-he felt dim for not having noticed it before, the death eater's ring. The very ring his father, Wormtail, and a good twenty other or so number of Voldemort's lackeys were.  
  
Of all the ridiculous things-how could he have not noticed it? He'd been through his past once before, he should have remembered..  
  
But the long and short of it was, he hadn't. Panicking slightly, Draco tried to twist off the ring, but to no avail, it stayed firmly and securely fastened around his finger, refusing to budge insomuch as an inch.  
  
"You will be a most welcome addition" Draco thought he heard a voice whisper in his head. And it did not stop there. All the way to the place where the dance was being held, Draco fought the sound of it, trying to block it out in his mind, but it prevailed.  
  
Whispers in Voldemort's voice and another voice, as unpleasing to the ear as his. Whispers of killing, turmoil, and mudbloods being swept out. Whispers of dark promises in return for loyality. Loyality...such a simple thing to ask..a death eater..  
  
Memories of terrible things. Destruction, pain; things he had previously possessed no memory of. Feelings of revenge-revenge on all mudbloods. Revenge for what?  
  
"For living" answered the voice, and it sent a chill through Draco; he who had learned to live with fear long ago.  
  
Only upon Draco's reaching the ball in all its bright splendor did the voices, memories, and feelings not his own cease.  
  
But not for good. Never for good. He was connected to both Voldemort and Salazer Slytherin now, as were all death eaters, even though Draco was not one yet.  
  
Yet. There was a vague threat to those words, one that had already been implied when he had said as much to Hermione earlier that evening.  
  
**********  
  
George, Fred, and Lee broke into the Gryffindor sixth year girl's dormitories breathlessly, all barging through the door nearly at once.  
  
"Really, Katie we meant to get here earlier-" gasped Lee.  
  
Katie, Alicia, and Angelina took one look at the three guys standing in the doorway and gave identical screams. You see, they hadn't quite finished dressing for the ball yet. Quite meaning that all three girls (luckily already dressed) were never the less running around barefoot with towels in their hair and faces covered in beauty masks of the green avacado and cucumber kind.  
  
"OUT! NOW!" screeched Katie, grabbing Lee by an arm and shoving him out the door.  
  
"Is this the way you treat a guy who learned prose for you?" he protested.  
  
Katie rolled her eyes. "You didn't learn it for me-you learned it because Professor McGonagall forced you read Romeo and Juliet after you cussed out the Slytherin quidditch team exactly fourty four times in one match, remember?"  
  
"My memory holds only your face," said Lee as gallantly as he could considering Katie's elbow was in his face, still trying to push him out the door.  
  
"Aha, so that's what under all that green stuff. I was wondering.." said Fred.  
  
"You know, this cucumber is just the same size as your nostrils," pointed out Angelina, glaring at him (or what was in all likelyhood glaring-it was hard to tell when her eyes were covered by cucumbers and her face was covered in green paste.) "I could always just throw it at you and hope it gets stuck there."  
  
"Alicia, before you get any similiar ideas, let me just say that that green gunky stuff looks absolutely..umm. positively.errm...green," said George and was rewarded by a cucumber bouncing off his ear.  
  
"Really," said Lee, now fending off a similiar attack from Katie. "It's quite becoming. Makes you look.."  
  
"Like aliens-," muttered Fred. Angelina swiped some of the green paste off of her face and smudged it in his hair.  
  
"-Minus the extra arms and legs," stated George (un) helpfully. He gave a very worried look towards Alicia, having a very scary feeling that she was planning something similiar. Those girls thought alike almost as much as he and Fred did.  
  
" You forgot to mention tentacles," added Lee. "No, no, not that you have tentacles," he backtracked under Katie's furious glare. "I'm saying that George forgot to mention you don't have them. I mean, really, they're almost as common with aliens as the whole head twisting thing. I even saw this one comic where they even had tentacles sprouting from their-"  
  
Lee Jordan's fascination with comics was not an asset in this particular conversation-not an asset in helping to placate the girls, either.  
  
"Not helping," hissed George to him. Both boys were rewarded in the same way as Fred-green gunk being flung into their hair.  
  
"You think we have tentacles hidden under our dresses?" demanded Alicia angrily. "Ooh, that's real flattering."  
  
"Under your dresses? No way! We don't think that! That's absurd!," exclaimed Fred. "Now, underneath those towel turbans, maybe.."  
  
"What the dunderhead means to say is that with your robes and all, you look the spitting image of.."  
  
"Dobby after someone clamps a set of sugar tongs on his nose?" guessed Angelina, and Fred, sadly, didn't realize she was being sarcastic.  
  
"Stole the words from my mouth!" joked Fred.  
  
Angelina made to grab her towel off her head and wap Fred with it, but for once, decided Fred could go without a bit of violence.  
  
She took one look at his appearance (Fred's hair was now as green as her face from the flung avacado stuff) and doubled over with laughter. Alicia looked at George and snickered. Katie looked at Lee and snorted.  
  
"I suppose we'll have to forgive you guys for your comments this once. Especially seeing as you guys look like you accidentally used Gremelen's Grass Gro on your heads instead of shampoo," said Katie. Unable to hold it in any longer, she too burst out laughing.  
  
"Grass? Looks more like miniature tentacles to me," noted Alicia, grinning at George.  
  
Far from being worried over their sudden change of hair color, the boys all crowded around the vanity mirror in the girl's dormitories.  
  
"Cool," said Lee in awe as he examined his now pea green strands.  
  
"Beyond cool," muttered George.  
  
"Wicked," said Fred.  
  
"We've been wanting to dye our hair for ages," explained George to Alicia. "Thanks for helping us out!"  
  
"Might I point out that there's a bunch of what is essentially avacado paste now stuck in your hair?" said Alicia.  
  
George shrugged. "Gives it texture." He began twisting his hair into small spikes with the help of the mirror. "There, how's that for tentacles?"  
  
"Great. Now I'm going on a date with a guy who's hair contains mini bean stalks," moaned Alicia to Katie and Angelina.  
  
"Now now, " comforted Angelina as she watched Fred do the same thing. "You're not alone. At least it's not bleached. And their ties," she pointed out as she realized that the boy's ties were all covered in the facial mask stuff as well. "Will match-"  
  
"Your faces?" guessed Fred.  
  
Before Angelina could retort, George spoke to Alicia. "Wait a minute. A date? What date? I haven't even--I mean, we aren't going to the Yule ball together."  
  
Alicia grinned at him affectionately. "Oh yes we bloody well are. Otherwise, why else would you, Fred, and Lee be here?"  
  
"To set off a dungbomb," said Fred promptly.  
  
"Or enchant your pillows so that you'll dream of us," said George.  
  
"Or take your perfumes and rearrange all the labels," said Lee.  
  
"But you'r absolutely right this time. We did come to ask you," admitted Lee. He frowned. "Katie, you don't even look slightly surprised."  
  
"Neither does Alicia or Angelina," said George.  
  
"Let's just say we had an educated guess this was going to happen," said Alicia.  
  
"Realized it when you thought up those fourty four ways to cuss out the Slytherin team after Blaise knocked me off my broom," said Katie to Lee.  
  
"And when you sent me the pack of bubblegum that kept singing about Wrigley Spearmint Beer," said Alicia to George.  
  
"And when you kept pretending to fall asleep on my shoulder during Wood's speeches," said Angelina to Fred.  
  
"You knew I was pretending?" asked Fred.  
  
"Keeping one eye open the whole time sort of gave you away," admitted Angelina.  
  
"So, you will go to with us to the ball, won't you?" asked Katie.  
  
Lee looked flabbergasted. "But your asking us? That's not right. We came here to ask y-"  
  
"Yeah, well we're doing the asking."  
  
"But girls never ask the guys," protested Fred.  
  
"And guys usually don't stand around commenting on the girl's facial masks," remarked Angelina.  
  
"And girls don't usually grind said parts of the facial masks into the guys' hair," said George.  
  
"And guys don't-" began Alicia.  
  
"Alright, alright. A simple yes or no will do," said Katie.  
  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Yup."  
  
"You bet."  
  
"Good then," said Alicia. "Now that that's settled, will you all kindly get out? We have face masks to take off and hair to put up."  
  
"We could help," suggested George, Lee, and Fred simultanously.  
  
Angelina, Katie, and Alicia raised their eyebrows.  
  
"Or simply stay out of the way and watch," the trio of boys corrected themselves.  
  
"Sorry, not a chance," said Angelina. "Now scoot."  
  
"Right."  
  
Lee, Fred, and George walked off towards the door.  
  
"Farwell, my darling Katie!" shouted Lee as he left.  
  
Katie dimpled. "Actually, it's Kat."  
  
"A rose of a name would smell just as sweet," quoted Lee inaccurately.  
  
"Actually, that's a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet," corrected Fred, poking his head around the door.  
  
" Oh yeah. A name by any other rose would smell just a sweet," Lee said.  
  
Fred shook his head and retreated from the doorframe. "Forget it."  
  
The door shutting behind Lee, Fred, and George was the cue for all three girls to give in to delighted little squeals that they had been asked (or rather, done the asking) as expected.  
  
  
  
************  
  
Once at the Yule ball, Hermione spotted Ron almost immediately. He was standing next to the wall and noticing the couples already spinning around the circumfrence of the dance floor (or, in Angelina's, Fred's , George's, Alicia's, Lee's, and Katie's case, doing the funky chicken) as he waited nervously for Hermione to show up.  
  
She waved at him from across the room to reassure him and moved through the throng of people to meet him.  
  
"Whew. Lucky I made it here at all," said Hermione, smoothing out her dress. "Sorry I'm late," she apologized, "but Lavender and Parvati held me up because they kept-"  
  
"-Acting like Lavender and Parvati?" guessed Ron, looking less nervous. He had been trying to think of just what he was supposed to say to Hermione during the ball-it wouldn't be a problem, normally, but as he was her date- well, he couldn't exactly act like the best friend and chatter about stuff per usual, could he? Ron had no idea about this kind of thing and- as Seamus had pointed out to him- he was so nervous over it all, it was amazing the whole school hadn't flooded under his sweat.  
  
"Exactly!" said Hermione with a nod. Thank goodness, thought Ron happily. Guess still acting like best friends is alright, after all.  
  
"I thought I was going to end up missing the dance altogether," Hermione continued," and get here only just in time to see the clean up crew of house elves."  
  
"And knowing you and S-P-E-W and all, you'd probably start a ball for them instead and have them all dancing the polka with brooms."  
  
Hermione frowned at Ron as she picked upa glass of pumkin juice from the table and sipped it. "I wouldn't do that! Too dangerous."  
  
"To the house elves or the brooms?" questioned Ron, effectively managing to distract Hermione from the entrance of both Harry and Ginny (as well as Draco's lone entrance.)  
  
Hermione gave an impish smile. "Both."  
  
"Aha! A disparaging comment on the house elves! You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say one."  
  
"Not as long as I've been waiting to have a chance to make you actually do the waltz," replied Hermione.  
  
"What?" Ron spluttered. "But I don't..."  
  
"At least," said Hermione as she dragged Ron unto the floor already filled to its capacity with couples, "it's not a polka and I'm not a broom."  
  
"And thankfully, I'm not anywhere near taking up wearing a tea cozy," said Ron.  
  
"Don't generalize. Just because Dobby wears one doesn't mean all the house elves do," Hermione said irritatedly as she showed Ron the steps of the dance. If all she and him were going to do was argue the whole time...  
  
"Maybe not in the same place," muttered Ron, luckily low enough that Hermione didn't hear him. He didn't want the entire night to turn into one long arguement-especially not over house elves, of all the dumb things.  
  
Then, the musicians playing the current song switched to a slower endeavor and both Hermione and Ron stopped talking completely. She started to move off the floor, but something inside Ron caused him to grab her hand in protest.  
  
"Please stay."  
  
Hermione looked surprised,- Ron couldn't get through a conversation mentioning the word "like" without blushing and now he was asking her to dance to a slow song?-but not adverse to the idea.  
  
"Well, alright then."  
  
Ron put his arms around her and she in turn reached up on her tippy toes to put her around him (he was too tall for his own good.) She didn't see the pair of eyes watching, gray and expressionless as slate.  
  
***********  
  
Draco never should have spotted Hermione among the scattered pairs and groups of fifth years. He wasn't one to pick certain people out from the crowd with his gaze. They were all the same to him-except for perhaps, those in Slytherin. Or, more specifically, those in Slytherin with brains ( as much as Draco hated to admit it, Slytherin was not synonomous with intelligence.)  
  
But Hermione was easy to tell from the rest. At least, in his eyes, she was. And that realization (along with another one) bugged him more than a little.  
  
The outside of the Malfoy Manor was surrounded by trees, and Malfoy Manner itself was full of stained glass windows. Draco had, on occasion, watched the sun shine on the windows within his home; shadow dancing in between patches of light. Hermione's dress was like that, made of a shimmery, gauzy stuff that seemed to change and show off a different hue with each move she made.  
  
It took a few minutes (Draco would never admit he was staring) do determine it was a pastel sort of seafoam green and blue. Matched her eyes, which, to Draco, didn't seem to be just one color, either, but rather changed upon whim.  
  
But such study was dangerous and Draco instead turned his focus back to his fingers, flexing each experimentally and noticing that they were actually shaking, each individual finger trembling.  
  
She can do this to me? he thought in disgust, clenching his fingers back in a small, tight fist. Pitiful. Absolutely pitiful. Nothing changes you from what you are, he reminded himself. Certainly not some insignificant mudblood.  
  
An insignificant mudblood who his eyes were following inadvertently on their own. Granger obviously had no intent to make her future the same as it had once been. She was dancing with that Weasley and at the real Yule Ball- the one when she and he had truly been fifteen-Draco seemed to remember her dancing with Potter. ONLY Potter.  
  
However, he himself had no plan of changing the future at all-well, besides his tragic demise, of course (and even that hadn't been so bad when it all came down to it-at least he hadn't had to bother with his father then.) No plan of telling Hermione something he had never gotten past his lips, not when he had really been fifteen and not now, either.  
  
Something he never ever meant to.  
  
Feeling as he did wasn't something he could control, though the number of times he had tried didn't bear counting. Showing or speaking it-now those were two things within his power to strictly avoid doing.  
  
The thoughts he held for Hermione were incomplete, and it was best for both that they stayed that way..forever. He didn't want such thoughts and he didn't need them, Draco told himself as he avoided staring at anything above the hem of Hermione's dress when she and Ron twirled by where he was standing. But then, he didn't want to be a death eater either, not really, (a puppet on a string to someone else? Not the sort of thing Draco was fond of) but he was born to it-as, perhaps, Potter had been born to love and security.  
  
And Draco loathed him for it-while not really knowing (or choosing to know) why he did so.  
  
Hermione was dancing with a Weasley? Ugh. Even she could do better. And wasn't she married to Harry in the future? So she was just stringing Ron along...behavior almost worthy of a Malfoy, there.  
  
"Touching, isn't it?" said Blaise beside him at the punch table by way of conversation, sneering. Draco knew just to what tableau she was referring.  
  
"In a horrible sort of grandma pinching their cheeks way, yes," answered Draco.  
  
"Another words, not at all." Blaise laughed.  
  
"Not unless by touching you mean completely mental. Although I could be forced to shed a few tears at the sight if given an onion."  
  
"Sickening, more like," commented Blaise as she watched Hermione and Ron spin 'round.  
  
"Completely. Her tastes have gone from terrible to gag-worthy," drawled Draco, his face as unreadable as he himself was. Malfoy's were not known for being honest-whether it was in emotions, actions, or otherwise.  
  
"Just remember," said Blaise, "if you have to hurl, throw up to the right. I'm wearing a new dress and don't want to muck it up."  
  
"Your attention to your apparell, is as always, astonishing. Almost as much as your devotion to Crabbe."  
  
"Well, I didn't notice you asking me," snapped Blaise.  
  
"No. You didn't. But that isn't saying much considering you didn't notice the entire back of your dress was covered in cat fur. Or are you beginning to shed too, Blaise?"  
  
And with that, Draco walked away from the punch table, not sure of the destination he was heading for--except that it was as far away from Blaise as humanly possible.  
  
**********  
  
Meanwhile, as they danced, Ron could literally feel his face turning redder and redder. The silence, far from being comfortable, seemed to fill the very air. What did she expect him to say? Or do? Was he actually her boyfriend or something now? For some reason, Ron had a feeling at the pit of his stomach that as much as he wanted to be, he didn't know what he would do if he was; how he would act or what he would say, which was the problem at hand.  
  
"Well," said Ron for lack of something better as he looked up at the enchanted ceiling. "The weather's nice."  
  
The Yule ball was taking place in the Great Hall-completely devoid of half of the furniture. Last year, Hogwarts' staff had gotten rid of nearly all the tables, but forgotten to take out the chairs, leading to a multitude of scraped shins-and two bumped noses in Fred and Angelina's case (Everyone had decided not to ask about that.)  
  
"Umm..Ron," said Hermione gently. "It's thundering."  
  
"Oh yeah..ermm.."  
  
"Ron, come on, it's just me. Hermione; your best friend, remember? No need to try and act like Professor Lockhart."  
  
Ron's lips curled at the memory of their-if not the best, at least the most humorous- professor for Defense Against The Dark Arts. The only dangerous thing Professor Lockhart had probably ever killed were the fruit flies that suffocated inside his hairnet.  
  
"Didn't think that was possible without a blonde wig and a tutu."  
  
  
  
Hermione grinned in spite of herself. "A tutu?"  
  
Ron shrugged, his shoulders raising underneath Hermione's arms. "He seems like the sort. Plus, it'll go with his kimono."  
  
"Glad to know you're still your usual self."  
  
Ron looked at her quizically. as the melody ended, the echo of it drifting softly in the Great Hall. "Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
He dreaded the answer as much as he anticipated it. Ron was confused. He liked her, right? Then why didn't he want things to change?  
  
Because he didn't. Ron wished feverently that things could stay just the same as they always had been. That she, him, and Harry could all just be friends with nothing else to worry, confuse, or cause them think otherwise.  
  
But the expression on Hermione's face as she said "no reason" and told him she was going to go get some pumkin juice told Ron all too clearly that things had changed. That and when Ron happened to see Lavender dancing with Dean. Lavender looking resilent in a clinging dark purple dress covered by a misty layer of see through lilac dancing with Dean.  
  
Is struck Ron then that two seconds after Hermione had left, he couldn't for the life of him remember what color her dress had been. A sort of blue maybe?  
  
On the contrary. Things hadn't changed, they (him, Harry, and Hermione) had. A good deal too much.  
  
***********  
  
A/N#2=*cough*..so how was this chapter?  
  
Next chapter....  
  
Draco/Hermione moments at last! (broodingRon! and broodingDraco! won't be featured quite as much. More like confusedRon! and handsomeDraco!-oh wait, Draco's always handsome, isn't he? *drool.*)  
  
Snitchetts of the angst of Harry/Hermione  
  
Draco's says he doesn't want to change the future, huh? *evil laugh*..we'll see about that!  
  
The emergence of more of a plot again. 


End file.
